There's No Place Like Cohen
by Allegra
Summary: What if Kirsten hadn't rescued Ryan from the juvenile detention centre at the beginning of 'The Gamble? HC
1. Cornered

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE COHEN  
  
By Allegra  
  
RATING: R  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters. They are the property of Fox, Warner Bros., Capitol Hill Pictures, Wonderland and Hypnotic Productions (sorry if I left anyone out!). Please don't sue!   
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Having read such excellent O.C. angst fiction, I felt inspired to write some of my own. Unfortunately, I have a tendency to write huge epic stories accidentally and so this is a test I set for myself. Can I write a short, uncomplicated story with all the angst still present? Well, I hope this means I can. Since the series did such a good job of opening up some excellent angst avenues, I thought it would be a shame to knock them. So, here is the 'what if Kirsten hadn't rescued Ryan from jail at the beginning of 'The Gamble'?'  
  
**********  
  
PART 1 : CORNERED  
  
The cell door slid open and Ryan stepped out into the communal corridor. Now was the hour he dreaded the most - when the inmates of the juvenile centre were allowed to spend some time together, trading war stories and bumming a couple of cigarettes off the guards. For those who knew how to play the game, it was a welcome change to the monotony of prison life. However, for those who couldn't figure out the rules, it was like being thrown to a pack of lions with no weapon to defend with. Ryan Atwood used to think he knew the rules but now he wasn't so sure.  
  
This was big boy territory and, underneath the blunt exteriors, these criminals played a sharp game full of rules and regulations that dictated whether you lived or died, had a walk in the park or the worst nightmare of your waking life. Unfortunately, a new boy with a defender like Sandy Cohen didn't stand much chance of getting the cushioned option. Ryan had read the signs - he was in for one hell of a ride. Perhaps if he had been a cute little urchin, some burly con would have taken him under his wing and looked out for him, but past experience had taught the teenager to defend himself any way he could. Given the run-ins he'd had with AJ and his mother's past boyfriends, Ryan had learned to keep his chin up and adopt a hard edge that fooled most people. In prison though, such mannerisms were considered arrogance and were likely to be tested soon enough.   
  
Ryan had already received a cut on the neck and some nasty bruising trying to defend himself from one punk with a penchant for him. Seth and Kirsten had witnessed the second incident and, for one joyous second, Ryan had almost believed the Cohens were going to take him out of there. Seth had pleaded with his mother enough but Mrs. Cohen was clearly too frightened to have the discussion in such a violent atmosphere. Hustled out of the room by a guard, her last vision had been of Ryan and a fellow prisoner being pulled apart by two other guards. Now he lived in fear for his life and this was the exact hour that his come uppance was most likely to arrive.  
  
The teenager looked furtively up and down the corridor as the other prisoners moved into the open space, stretching and greeting friends from cells further down. Ryan decided to cut his losses and return to the relative safety of his own cell where he tried to make himself as small as possible at the foot of the bed. Seth had brought him a comic to read and, while it was hardly enough to sustain a guy for more than an hour, Ryan was happy to try and appear busy. For the most part, this course of action had worked wonders. Today, however, was going to be different.  
  
It didn't take long for the various groups and cliques to assemble and start hatching plans, mouthing off about prisoners they disliked and Ryan knew it wouldn't be long before Nordlund came looking for him with his hefty entourage. It had taken Ryan a while to figure out the name of his regular assailant but, as one of the more formidable big wigs of the prison, word eventually got around, even to his victims. Similarly, news that Ryan was the Hispanic man's latest target had spread fast. Once, the teenager had even seen someone make the sign of the cross as he passed. The action had flipped Ryan's stomach. He didn't have anyone to cover his back so he could only try to stay out of Nordlund's way and pray for his safety. Unfortunately, if he stayed of Nordlund's way well enough, the guy just came to seek him out and make trouble. Ryan couldn't seem to win, no matter what he did.  
  
"Hey, punk." Ryan felt the familiar tightness in his chest that he felt every time Nordlund's voice reached his ears. Bracing himself, he looked up from his comic book to see the formidable man and four of his henchmen hovering over him, crowding the small cell. "Hey," he managed, his voice hoarse and dry with fear.   
  
"You ain't even got the balls to come out and see us now? Think you're too good for the likes of us, don't ya? Think you're better than me?" The man brought his face low and close to Ryan's until the teenager could feel the breath and spit on his neck. "Huh?"  
  
"I'm just reading, man." He tried to keep his cool but he could already feel his fingers trembling as they clutched the pages of the comic. Nordlund stretched out one heavily tattooed arm and swept the comic out of Ryan's hands and onto the floor. Ryan flinched, anticipating a strike to his face.   
  
Nordlund moved his face so it was close to Ryan's ear and the boy could feel the man's stubble against his own cheek. Then, Nordlund whispered, "I've been looking forward to this. I've been working my muscles all week just to give you a pounding, puppy. Don't you feel privileged?" He pulled away with a grin, admiring the expression of sheer fear he had etched so thoroughly across the teenager's face.  
  
Drawing himself up to his full height and cracking his knuckles loudly, Nordlund nodded to his companions, one of whom went to the door. Within minutes, the noise level in the prison corridor had risen just enough to drown out any moans or punches. Two others pulled Ryan to his feet and wrenched his arms behind his back, pinning them. The teenager struggled to free himself but their grip was like an iron vice and all he could do was try and prepare himself for what was to come.  
  
The first punch winded him harder than AJ had ever managed to do and Ryan doubled over as much as the goons behind him would allow. He struggled for breath as his face grew crimson with the strain. There was barely time to draw in ample oxygen before the next onslaught. Nordlund sent a flurry of punches in perfect formation directly at Ryan's stomach, each fist like an iron bowling ball thrust against his flesh.   
  
"You think you're a tough guy? Look at you…" Nordlund smiled, leaning close to the teenager's face once more, "…and I've barely started." He cracked his knuckles again and flexed his decorated biceps proudly. Ryan looked up at him from under pained eyelids. He could pretend to give in right now and pray that they left him alone or play it strong, drawing out his torture for longer. Even as he recomposed himself, Ryan was thinking clearly. If he acted like a wimp, he was likely to get one beating after another. Sandy Cohen had given him a ball park release date of anything from one to two months unless his elusive mother decided to miraculously turn up. That would be the first time she had rescued him from something worse than he'd find at home with her latest squeeze. Ryan wasn't sure how many more beatings he would be able to take. He had to try and be strong, pray that it was enough to garner Nordlund's respect so that he could get a little piece…if he made it out of this alive, that is.  
  
He pulled himself up straight, wincing at the dull ache it conjured in his stomach. Nordlund grinned, clearly pleased that his victim was going to give him a decent round. Grabbing the hair at the back of Ryan's neck, he yanked the boy's head backwards and whispered crudely in his ear, "Ooh, you're so strong…. I'm gonna fix that attitude of yours."  
  
Ryan desperately wanted to plead for mercy but he knew that was the quickest route to being made one of Nordlund's lackeys, probably pinning the next poor inmate to the wall. The blows rained harder and harder, never relenting or missing the target. When, he was done with his chest and stomach, Nordlund took a turn on Ryan's face, whipping the boy's head to and fro with the sheer force of his leaden fist.  
  
The teenager's mind swam in and out of coherent thought, sometimes plotting the best course of action, sometimes focused entirely on the labour of drawing in one painful breath before the next onslaught of pain. A particularly hefty blow caught his chin, forcing him to bite down hard on his tongue. Blood flew from his lips and spattered against the whitewashed wall opposite. A second punch followed and Ryan heard an audible crack as his cheekbone shattered. Milliseconds later, unbelievable pain coursed like fire through his face, jarring down every nerve, from his ear to his teeth and down his neck, then back up again. Black dots danced in front of his eyes and Nordlund's demonic face fell into shadow then came back into sharp, bright focus as if a spotlight were shining on him.  
  
"Hey, stay with me, punk!" a voice reached him. Ryan was slumped heavily against the two sidekicks holding him firm, and his head lolled lifelessly against his chest. Blood dripped from his swollen lips onto the blue jump suit. Dimly, Ryan felt his head wrenched upwards, sending an icy pain shooting down his neck and spine. "You need a little pepping up?"   
  
The teenager felt the strong arms release their vice-like grip and he fell listlessly to the floor. The impact of concrete floor against his mutilated cheek made him cry out. He stared at the comic book mere feet away from him on the floor, its pages bent…and was that blood on the cover? Man, Seth was going to kill him. He treated his comics with the utmost of care. Ryan could still remember the first time Seth had dragged him into his room, directing him to a bean bag on the floor and showing him a ton of his favourite limited edition copies. They were all lined up in release order, some carefully preserved in plastic folders.   
  
That world barely existed to Ryan anymore. In the excruciating haze enveloping his mind, it was all he could do to cling to that single fond memory with his friend. That comic book would probably be the last familiar thing he saw before he died.   
  
Ryan felt his hand pulled roughly from underneath his body and was vaguely aware of someone kneeling down beside him on the cold floor. He struggled to turn his head and find out who this next person was. Had the guards finally cottoned on to what was happening? Had someone intervened to save him from certain pulping? A booted foot sank down onto his neck, forcing him to stay still. He heard one finger after another snapping and a distant voice screaming for it to stop. It was only when Ryan took a heaving sob that he realised that voice had been his own.  
  
"Get up!" Nordlund barked. Ryan couldn't think of a single part of his body that didn't feel like a thousand knives were stabbing away. He couldn't even make it to his knees by himself. "Get up or I'll keep you down forever." Nordlund's hand appeared in front of the teenager's face and Ryan watched with detachment as a small flick knife was exposed.  
  
Struggling to his hands and knees, Ryan grimaced as his injured hand touched the floor, trying to support his weight. His legs felt like jelly and his arms trembled with the exertion of pushing himself up. Suddenly, the strong hands of Nordlund's companions caught him under his armpits and dragged him firmly to his feet then slammed him face first against the wall at the foot of his bed.  
  
The force made Ryan expel all the air from his lungs in one rush. He struggled to draw another breath but the action was cut short when blows drove into the small of his back, bashing his kidneys and spine with merciless ferocity. Ryan's cries had slowly subsided into small whimpers of agony but even that was too much effort now. He could bear no weight on his own anymore and Nordlund's cohorts now carried the teenager completely. He felt something give in his back and blinding pain filled his head.  
  
Ryan's mind slowly detached itself from the reality of what was happening. He saw the beach, Marissa's face smiling at him as her hair, caught in a light breeze, danced like a golden brown halo around her head. Her fingers reached out to touch his and he reached out to meet her but the further he leaned, the further away Marissa seemed.   
  
The boy's eyelids felt heavy, too heavy to support anymore. Ryan knew his grip on reality was slipping but he was happy to leave the discomfort behind him. He didn't care where he went or for how long, as long as it was devoid of sensation.  
  
By the time Nordlund had kicked him to the floor, Ryan had drifted away into blissful blackness.  
  
END OF PART 1  
  
I know that was quite brutal. I promise the actual 'comfort' part of this 'hurt/comfort' fic will come eventually, if anyone wants to read it, that is?! (hint, hint). 


	2. Broken

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE COHEN   
  
By Allegra  
  
(See Part One for disclaimers etc.)  
  
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this so far. I appreciate all your encouragement. After the violence of the last part, I hope this goes some way to open up the comfort part of the fic. Please, please review!  
  
To the person who hated it, I would suggest that you don't read R rated stories under the Angst/Drama section about people left in prison in future (just a thought). However, I'm sorry if you were offended by the content. You can sort the stories by rating in future and avoid any R rated fiction if you choose.  
  
PART TWO : BROKEN  
  
Seth Cohen put away his binoculars hurriedly when he heard his father approaching. Spying on the neighbours was morally wrong anyway but when those neighbours happened to currently include Summer Roberts and Marissa Cooper having a pool party, Seth knew he must be going to Hell.   
  
"Hey, Dad. What's going down?"   
  
Sandy eyed his son, suspiciously. He had learned long ago how to interpret Seth's strange behaviour. The boy gesticulated like he was learning a new kind of semaphore and always spoke to his father like he was one of the gang. "What are you up to?"  
  
"Nothing, what...why would you ask that? I'm just...taking in this cool, balmy night," Seth struggled to convince himself as well as his father. To his horror, Sandy moved to where Seth had been standing and peered over the edge of the balcony, craning his neck in the direction of the joyful voices in the Coopers' backyard. He leaned round to see what his son was shielding rather unskilfully behind his back. It didn't a lawyer's brain to put two and two together. "Aah. You know, this view is just as good, and more legal, done on the beach."  
  
Seth pulled a shameful face. "Yeah."  
  
Sandy held his hand out to receive the offending binoculars. "How are things between you and this April girl?"  
  
"Her name's Summer and I think even mentioning our names in the same sentence is more of a relationship than we've got right now." He sighed and leaned his back heavily against the rail. "I figured I'd go and see Marissa again, try and get her to come and visit Ryan with me."   
  
Sandy nodded, appreciatively. He knew how hard Seth found it to understand why the Cohens couldn't just take the troubled teenager into their own house. It made him feel guilty just thinking about the nights Ryan had already spent in the Orange County juvenile detention centre so far. He tried to put the incident with Kirsten and Seth out of his mind. He didn't like to dwell too long on how hard Ryan must need to defend himself in there. "Yeah, I bet he'd like that."  
  
"Did you see him today?" Seth asked, casually.  
  
"No. I've been trying to track his mother down but...well, she clearly doesn't want to be found."  
  
"But you can't just leave him in there, Dad! I mean, you heard what happened the other day. It's only a matter of time before things start getting ugly. There are only three ways this could turn out - Ryan kills someone, gets killed or learns some real bad habits. He needs rescuing and I can't see one good reason why we can't do it!" Seth felt the hysteria rising in his voice. He knew his parents felt guilty about leaving Ryan, but that was just the reason he kept bugging them. They would come around eventually.  
  
"Seth," Sandy warned, "We've discussed this. It's time you just accepted the decision your mother and I have made. We'll do everything we can to help Ryan."  
  
Seth exhaled sharply, "Yeah, everything except what he really needs."  
  
"Seth..." Sandy began, ready for another onslaught, and reached out a hand for his son's shoulder but Seth shrugged him off, hands raised in surrender.  
  
He backed away from the balcony rail. "Just forget it, okay. I just don't know how you and Mom can sleep at night." He didn't wait for his father's reply and darted back into the house.   
  
Sandy sighed, wearily. Part of him knew Seth was right and wanted to bring Ryan home. On the other hand, he had to respect his wife's wishes. If Kirsten didn't want a relatively unknown teenager in her house for the next few years, Sandy knew he had to go along with it. It was hard enough raising just one son but bringing in a stray from the wrong side of the tracks was too much to handle.  
  
Lost in his reverie, Sandy didn't notice his wife creeping up on him and jumped when her slender, tanned arms reached down around his neck. "Hey, baby. You okay?"  
  
Sandy smiled and ran his hands over her smooth skin. "Yeah."  
  
"Do you think Seth's right?" Kirsten asked, taking her husband by surprise. He hadn't realised she was listening.  
  
Sandy shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "I don't know, I know it's a big deal, bringing up a kid who isn't your own..."  
  
"But?"  
  
"But I can't help but worry about him. I mean, Ryan's tough, but he's still just a kid."  
  
Kirsten nodded, mutely, and thought for a moment. "I've been thinking the same thing."  
  
"You have?" Sandy enquired, perking up.  
  
"I just can't get our visit out of my mind. The way he fought against that other guy. He was holding his own but by the time the guards got on the scene, Ryan was pinned to the floor. I keep worrying about him. Maybe we should get him out." Kirsten's blue eyes surveyed Sandy's, looking for some kind of opinion or affirmation that she had made the right decision.  
  
He turned to her, moving his arms around her waist. "Are you sure? Because we can't keep jerking this kid around."  
  
"I know, I know. That's why I really want to know what you think."  
  
Sandy smiled, "I think we should go get Ryan." He hugged Kirsten close and rested his head lightly on hers, inhaling the lingering scent of coconut shampoo and the salt air. "We'll go first thing in the morning."  
  
"Should we discuss it with Seth first?" Kirsten mused.  
  
"Oh, I think we already know what he thinks. He's going to be thrilled."  
  
"Do you want to break the good news or shall I?" she asked.  
  
Before Sandy had a chance to answer, Seth came bowling out of the patio doors, the phone clutched in his hand. "Mom, Dad! We got to get over to the centre! It's Ryan."  
  
**********  
  
Orange County Juvenile Detention Centre was nestled near a cliff edge where the sea breeze could alternate rudely between respite from the sun and sharp winds which whistled briskly through the prison courtyard and grated windows. Tonight, the wind was bitter and tossed the palm leaves violently against the dark sky.   
  
The Cohens' drive to the facility had been made in anxious silence, unsure of what they would find upon arrival. Sandy's black cruiser pulled up by the car park gates and was waved through by a rotund security guard. The edifice looked grim and forbidding in the darkness - small, barred windows silhouetted against the harsh, yellow strip lighting inside. Barbed wire topped the main recreation area, separating the young inmates from the outside world.  
  
Kirsten looped her arm through Seth's as Sandy stalked ahead to announce their arrival. She felt cold goose bumps marking a path up her spine as they entered the main reception area as she recalled her first visit only days before. Her mind was a tangle of thoughts going round and round - blaming herself for leaving Ryan in this lions' den, fear for what they might discover, anger that nobody had stepped in sooner. This place was full of teenagers who didn't know any better. The security should have been better; someone should have been looking out for the new arrivals. Yet, all the arguments led back to one truth - Kirsten had been the one person standing between Ryan's safety and his entrapment in the juvenile centre.  
  
"I'm Sandy Cohen, Ryan Atwood's lawyer. I heard he'd been admitted to the hospital wing." Sandy had already adopted his best professional front and the security guard waved the small group through the first door, directing them down a long corridor.   
  
Sounds could be heard echoing down the prison corridor as the three made their way hurriedly towards the hospital area. While the public area of the building resembled most community centres with a fairly new lick of white paint, the further they moved away from highly populated areas, the dingier and more unsanitary the corridors appeared. Cracks appeared down the walls, the floors were dirty and water stains gathered in the corners of the ceilings. Sandy could only hope that the hospital itself was better maintained.  
  
He pushed open a pair of swing doors and marched purposefully towards the reception desk barring the way between the next set of locked mesh doors and the medical area itself. "We're here to see Ryan Atwood."  
  
The young woman had clearly been warned of their imminent arrival and had a steely expression which did not inspire co-operation. "I'm sorry. Visiting hours are strictly limited to the hours of 2pm-5pm and this wing is reserved for authorised personnel only. I'm sorry."  
  
Sandy smiled sweetly, betraying his intentions. "Well, I'm not just any visitor. I'm Ryan's lawyer and I'm already compiling a case against this facility for gross negligence so, if you want to keep your job, I suggest you let us through right now."  
  
The woman's face dropped visibly and Seth couldn't help admiring the way his dad had managed to get her in line so quickly. He had rarely seen Sandy in action and the teenager felt momentary pride as the receptionist called through to the doctor and buzzed open the next set of doors.  
  
The Cohens were met on the other side by a middle-aged doctor who looked like he belonged in a posh plastic surgeon's office rather than a state juvenile detention centre. He appeared tired but greeted Sandy and Kirsten cordially enough. "Mr and Mrs Cohen? Dr. Brown." He offered a hand which Sandy shook.  
  
"How's Ryan?" Kirsten asked, fretfully, barely able to contain her worry.  
  
Dr. Brown stood to the side and pointed in the direction of a small office off the corridor. "Come and sit down. We can discuss Ryan's condition."  
  
Seth didn't like the sound of that. One couldn't tell from the doctor's tone what he was thinking or how bad the situation was. He remembered Ryan's face last time he had visited. Seth had not known the teenager long but he could vividly recall the look in Ryan's eyes, prepared for a fight, prepared to be abandoned. He had put up the defences to avoid getting hurt.   
  
The three sat down on the chairs in the cramped office space. Bulging case files filled every shelf and made the walls close in around them. They waited patiently while Dr. Brown perused the thin manila folder in front of him. He took off his glasses and smiled up at the family, clearly trying to allay any fears. "Now then, Ryan. As you know he came into a little trouble with some of the inmates. He suffered quite a beating. Apart from the obvious contusions, he suffered a number of significant injuries."  
  
Kirsten clasped one hand across her mouth, afraid of what was to come. She squeezed Seth's hand tightly with the other hand. Sandy asked, "What kind of injuries exactly?"  
  
"Well, first there are a few breaks to his fingers, ribs and left arm. However, my prime concern is one ruptured kidney as a result of blows to his back which have also resulted in some bruising to the spine. Fortunately, primary X-rays don't reveal any fractures there which is a blessing. Ryan also suffered a fracture to his cheekbone."  
  
"Oh my God," Kirsten breathed, slowly digesting the list of horrors. "Is he going to be okay?"  
  
"It's too early to tell how quickly Ryan will recover but we have no reason to suspect complications."  
  
"Can we see him?" Sandy asked, his voice rough with concern.  
  
Dr. Brown surveyed the troubled faces before him. "He's unconscious at the moment and sedated but you may see him for a moment if you would like. I should warn you about what you will find. I don't think I need to tell you that victims of assault often display wounds which far surpass the true severity of their injuries." Sandy nodded and the doctor continued, "We have intubated him in order to regulate his breathing and there is a noticeable amount of swelling to the face and body."   
  
"Is he in any pain?" Kirsten asked.  
  
"Not while he is unconscious but, when Ryan wakes up, I will be better able to monitor the need for painkillers." The doctor smiled and stood up, leading the Cohens to a couple of private rooms away from the main hospital ward.   
  
Sandy couldn't help noticing that, even though this part of the centre was more hygienic, it was hardly the kind of environment conducive to recovery. He made a mental note to organise Ryan's removal to a private facility as soon as possible.  
  
He opened the door gently and moved towards the curtain surrounding one single bed against the adjacent wall. Ryan looked no more than twelve years old, suddenly diminished in his vulnerable state. The right side of his face was an ugly patchwork of blossoming bruises and the fractured cheekbone was swollen. His lip bore a slowly clotting cut as did the teenager's forehead although the latter was partially concealed by his dark blonde hair.  
  
One arm sported a cast and was elevated away from the body by weights and pulleys to immobilise it. Sandy was grateful that he could see little more than the top part of Ryan's chest where purple marks plotted a path down beneath the neck of the hospital gown. The teenager's left hand had been partially bandaged and Sandy could see that two fingers were tightly splinted but, even after being cleaned up, crusted blood was clearly visible beneath his fingernails.  
  
Monitors beeped incessantly, a constant reminder of the fragility of life. Ryan's heartbeat was fairly steady and strong but the tubes commanding his breathing only served to show how little control the boy had over something as simple as pushing oxygen into his own lungs. Kirsten moved up alongside her husband and clutched at his hand. "My God, Ryan."  
  
Sandy kissed the top of her head lightly. "He'll be okay, sweetheart. He's as tough as nails."  
  
"But it's my fault that he's lying here. If I hadn't kicked up such a fuss about him living with us in the first place, Ryan would be at home with us right now, not fighting for his life in a hospital bed."  
  
Sandy looked at her, wide-eyed. "Honey, you can't blame yourself. None of us could have anticipated this. Besides, you had every right to be hesitant about taking a stranger into our home, our family."  
  
"Both you and Seth wanted Ryan to stay. It was only me and my stubbornness that has left him in this mess." Sandy moved to comfort his wife but she pulled away. "I'm not looking for sympathy, Sandy. I know what I did. I just hope Ryan can forgive me."  
  
Seth remained silent throughout, simply staring at the shell of his friend against the stark white sheets of the bed. It was hard to imagine that this was the same person he had spent so much time with, swum in the pool with and played Playstation with.   
  
Dr. Brown came up beside Sandy and quietly said, "I believe you were called soon after the incident so we've only had time to patch up Ryan's injuries. Now that he is stabilising, we will have to move him to a hospital where surgery can be performed on his kidneys. We've drained some of the blood from his body cavities and put him on dialysis, but Ryan needs surgery soon."  
  
Sandy nodded. "We're taking Ryan into our care so I'd like him to have the best medical attention possible. Private health care."  
  
Brown raised his eyebrows in surprise. "He must be a special kid to deserve such treatment. I suggest you get onto that as soon as possible. Ryan will need surgery within the next twelve hours."  
  
"We should go and do that then," Sandy said to Kirsten.  
  
She shook her head, "No, you two go. I want to stay here...with Ryan." Sandy nodded and beckoned to Seth, leaving Kirsten to watch over the battered boy they had come to care so much about.  
  
**********  
  
END OF PART 2 


	3. Waiting

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE COHEN  
  
By Allegra  
  
(See Part One for disclaimers etc.)  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm sorry this part has been such a long time coming but I do want to say a massive thank you in skywriting (if I could afford it) to everyone who has reviewed. It's such a compliment and has gone a long way to keeping this fic off the dusty shelf in my brain! Also, a big thank you to Brandywine who was instrumental in me getting off my rear end and writing this particular chapter. I was really chuffed that I got a mention at TWoP amongst all you good people! Please let me know what you think & enjoy!  
  
PART 3 : WAITING  
  
Sandy had been thwarted at every turn. Eventually he had been forced to throw his weight around in a ridiculous display of male power to get his medical policy altered to accommodate Ryan. At first, he had been told by the very cheery but completely unhelpful assistant that his updated policy would be set in motion within a fortnight. Sandy had tried to keep his cool as he explained that this was an urgent matter and he couldn't wait that long. The girl had smiled vacuously and handed him a pile of forms to fill out, explaining that the small print would remind him of the policy terms.  
  
Finally, Mr. Cohen had played out his lawyer routine, remembering all the usual embellishments. Seth, who had been listening in embarrassment all along, couldn't help but find lines from 'A Few Good Men' popping into his head. He had rarely seen his father so worked up and intense before, but it seemed to get results in the end. Eventually, the receptionist made a call to a senior and a deal was struck which would include Ryan on the policy with immediate effect.  
  
"Way to go, Dad. I didn't know you had it in you," Seth said, proudly.   
  
"Well, my inner schmuck only comes out when I'm really angry," Sandy smiled. He was relieved that his son wasn't horrified at the outburst but he also wasn't prepared to leave Ryan to whatever butchers and alcoholics the state had appropriated for their local juvenile centre. The kid deserved every chance the Cohens could give him. "Come on, let's call your mom and see how Ryan's doing."  
  
Kirsten hadn't noticed how quickly the time had passed. The discomfort of the stiff, plastic seat had long faded in her mind as concern for Ryan overtook any other thought. At first, it was all she could do to look at the disfiguring bruises adorning his youthful face. Never in her wildest imagination had she thought the injuries would be this bad. The tube forced down his throat only served as a reminder of the brutal beating the teenager had received at the hands of those thugs. Injured so badly, he couldn't even be trusted to keep breathing on his own. It made her feel sick to think anyone could do this to another human being. Kirsten had rarely been so close to a victim of such torture. At first, she had been horrified but somehow distanced, as if she were watching a violent film. The more time she spent listening to the beeping monitors and rasping air pumping in and out of Ryan's lungs, the harder it was to dismiss the agony each laceration and bruise accompanied. Every inch of him was a patchwork of colour – purple, blue, yellow, red and every crimson colour in between. A work of butcher's art.  
  
Then guilt set in. Sandy had already tried to deny it, Seth would laugh it off as ridiculous melodrama, but Kirsten knew she was the chief culprit responsible for Ryan's predicament. She wasn't going to mope and flagellate herself for not seeing it coming and not preventing it. It was too late for that and it served no purpose. The best Kirsten could hope for was that she could give Ryan all the support he needed and a safe place to go when it was all over. She might have hesitated once but she was damned if she'd let it happen again. He was coming home for good this time.  
  
She gazed down on Ryan's still form, his green eyes closed in enforced slumber. Kirsten imagined them opening, the way he peered out at strangers from beneath a hooded brow. He was like a neglected puppy, afraid of what might come his way and who to trust, afraid of letting the need in him show.  
  
A facility nurse entered quietly, anxious not to disturb Kirsten. She moved silently around the bed and checked the IVs then added some notes to the clipboard at the foot of Ryan's bed. She smiled at Kirsten, "Can I offer you a drink? Water? I'm afraid our coffee percolator is broken so water's about all we've got."  
  
Kirsten returned the smile, fighting to find her manners in the face of such a crisis. "No, thank you. Has there been any word from my husband? He was going to arrange Ryan's transferral."  
  
"No, I'm sorry." The middle aged woman adopted a pitying tone that sent shivers of irritation through Kirsten. It was the edge carers reserved for people whose loved ones were on the brink of death, people who had to come to terms with fatal illness or permanent disability. The Cohens were not going to be those people and they sure as hell didn't need sympathetic eyes rolling in their direction.   
  
Pulling herself up stoically in her chair, Kirsten found her mind quickly wandering from the nurse back to Ryan. "How long had he been…like this…before he was found, I mean?" The nurse looked perturbed by this question, whether from a legal or moral point of view was unclear. Kirsten pushed harder, playing into the mourning parent routine expected of her. "Please, I need to know. I just want to know that he…"  
  
"I'm afraid I don't have that kind of information, ma'am. I'm not fully aware of the centre rules and timings. I'm sure assistance would be almost immediate." She smiled her patronising smile once more before leaving the room. Kirsten nodded, knowing that couldn't be true. If assistance had come immediately, Ryan wouldn't have suffered more than another black eye or cut neck. This beating was thorough and carried out in its entirety. He was meant to be dead. Of that, Kirsten was quite sure. That sudden, shocking fact struck a chord in her and the tears welled in her eyes.  
  
It was in this state that Sandy and Seth found her. "Sweetheart?" Sandy's strong hand rested on her shoulders. "We're going to have Ryan moved within the next hour. An ambulance will be dispatched soon."  
  
"Thank God!" Kirsten exclaimed, wiping a stray tear as it wended its way down her cheek.  
  
"Yeah. That kid's going to get the care he needs," Sandy affirmed, his gaze wandering to where Ryan lay amidst a tangle of wires and tubes. Kirsten looked up at her husband and pulled Seth closer to her. Most of the time, their son distanced himself from ugly public spectacles of affection but even he did not pull away from her hug.  
  
Marissa Cooper was lying on her bed, almost asleep when she heard the news. As was becoming the norm this summer, she had spent the night partying and getting illegally drunk at a friend's party. She'd smoked some cigarettes and had a few puffs of weed. By the time she had stumbled home at 4am, Marissa was well and truly plastered, not to mention a little stoned. She knew her parents would be furious or at least angry enough to ground her. She still found it strange and somewhat ironic that they didn't consider her Orange County circle of friends to be a bad influence because they came from expensive houses and drove to school but Ryan, who had been a better influence on her than any of them, was shunned simply because he had the wrong zip code.  
  
Right now though, Marissa was hardly capable of thought. She had barely moved a muscle since she had collapsed on the bed several hours ago. It was already mid-afternoon and she didn't feel any better. Her phone rang, its shrill tone piercing her skull and Marissa instinctively covered her head with a pillow. Still, the phone continued. Why wasn't anyone answering it? Did she have to do everything? Finally giving in, she extricated one hand from the bedclothes and dragged the receiver to her ear. "What?" she slurred.  
  
Summer's voice answered, sounding much too awake for someone who hadn't had a much better night than Marissa. "Coop, I've got some bad news."  
  
The juvenile centre in Orange County was the one establishment Marissa had hoped never to set foot in, yet here she was. Her parents had warned her about her drinking and soft drug habits a while ago when they had first discovered her party girl habits. They had given her a stiff lecture with plenty of warnings about police investigation and potential criminal records. Marissa had been suitably chastised for a month or two before temptation got the better of her. Never had she imagined she'd be in a place like this because of someone else. First Luke and now Ryan. Luke had been a shock but the misdemeanour was small and quickly erased. But Ryan…well, he was a whole different kettle of fish.   
  
Their relationship was ambiguous to say the least and, even as she marched across the parking lot towards the imposing doors to the facility with her heart in her mouth, Marissa couldn't understand what she was feeling. Was it love? Or mere concern? Was her fascination with the boy from Chino simply to try him on for size? A welcome change from the preppy boys in high school?  
  
She made it through security, having been thoroughly searched and questioned. It was degrading but it was the only way to get in to see Ryan. Marissa walked quickly down the echoing linoleum corridor, hearing the sound of her flat shoes resounding around her. Ridiculous images of mad inmates like some poor imitation of 'Twelve Monkeys' whirled in her head until she reached the hospital wing. Suddenly, her thoughts changed course to what she was going to say to Ryan. Was he going to be awake? The way they had parted was hardly conducive to small talk by a hospital bed. A large part of her was still mad at him for rejecting her and yet she was still here.  
  
Rounding the corner, she found Sandy and Kirsten deep in conversation with a doctor. Sandy was gesticulating wildly and Kirsten had her arms folded in a classically defensive posture. Seth was sitting on a plastic chair by the wall, head in his hands. He looked up when he heard her footsteps. "Marissa? Hi…uh, what are you doing here?"  
  
Marissa hugged her cold arms, shivering. "Summer told me about Ryan. Is he okay?"  
  
"Not really," Seth replied, honestly. "He got beaten up pretty bad. My dad has been trying to get him moved. He's going to need surgery."  
  
Marissa tried to hide her shock. She had never anticipated Ryan's condition would be that bad. "Can I see him?"  
  
Seth shrugged, "I guess." He steered her towards the door and opened it. Marissa took one look at him and stepped back abruptly into the corridor. "Oh my God! Is he going to die?" she blurted out.  
  
Sandy and Kirsten had finished wrangling with the doctor and approached the distraught Marissa. Both adults understood the overwhelming effect seeing someone so badly injured could have and tried to reassure her. Kirsten guided the teenager to a chair. "Listen, Marissa, Ryan's going to make it. We're doing everything we can to ensure he gets the best medical aid we can provide. Okay?"  
  
"But it might not be enough," Marissa whispered.  
  
Kirsten rubbed her arm reassuringly. "Come here." She pulled Marissa's slim frame close to her in a comforting hug. She didn't deny the girl's statement; she didn't want to make promises she couldn't keep. Suddenly the nurse sprung into action.   
  
Seth burst out of Ryan's room to where his mother and friend were sitting, "Ryan's flatlined!"  
  
END OF PART 3  
  
Not exactly a comfort chapter, I know, but it's getting there. I just couldn't resist drawing out the angst a bit longer! There will be more (chapters I mean!). 


	4. Limbo

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE COHEN   
  
By Allegra  
  
NOTE: I'm really sorry this part has been soooo long coming. I just lost all impetus to writing anything. That said, I hope this chapter doesn't seem too lack lustre! Don't forget to review (or Ryan gets it!).  
  
Part 4 : Limbo  
  
Everything was moving in slow motion, even Marissa's thoughts. She had never witnessed anything quite like this in her life before. Orange County didn't exactly throw up a huge amount of serious beatings, certainly not to this extent. Marissa was barely aware of Kirsten's hand on her arm, gripping it tightly as they watched the morbid scene unfold in Ryan's room.  
  
Defibrillators were applied to his chest, causing the teenager's body to stiffen and lurch from the bed as spasms of electricity shot through him. A nurse was pumping oxygen into his weakened lungs as the Cohen family looked on helplessly. It was difficult to reconcile their memories of Ryan Atwood with the inert figure being worked on through the glass. Joules of energy were forced through him as the heart monitor continued its steady tone of the dead. Nobody spoke, nobody moved. Time was frozen in stark contrast to the frenzied activity going on next door.  
  
Finally, a thready, irregular beat registered on the monitor as Ryan returned to the land of the living. Marissa watched with sickening fascination as her friend was intubated and a curtain was draw around his bed. The doctor emerged, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. Beneath the lenses, his eyes were bright and alert as he approached the waiting family. "Mr and Mrs Cohen. Ryan is going to be airlifted to the private facility you specified. His condition is currently unstable but we do not have adequate resources to treat this level of injury at the center."  
  
"What are you saying?" Kirsten asked, her voice hoarse.  
  
"Ryan has suffered significant internal injuries. We were able to do a patch up job which, as you just saw, is not enough for his body to begin healing itself. He needs a intensive care unit that can provide him with the very best care. The helicopter should be here in a matter of minutes." He gave the couple a moment for this information to sink in.  
  
Sandy gathered his senses enough to ask, "Can anyone ride with him?"  
  
"No. As you can imagine, the helicopter can only accommodate the patient and two paramedics. If you leave now, you should arrive at the hospital shortly after Ryan. I'm sorry there isn't more I can do."  
  
"Thank you, doctor." Sandy turned to his wife and son. "Well, let's make a move. Marissa? Are you coming with us?"  
  
The teenager was still standing near the window to Ryan's room, staring blankly at the curtain separating her from him. Her brain wasn't functioning quickly enough to register anything Sandy Cohen was saying.   
  
"Marissa?" Kirsten moved up alongside the girl and laid a gentle hand on her arm. "Ryan's being moved. Do you want to come with us?" Marissa turned to her, dazed, then nodded mutely. Kirsten steered her back along the corridor, sparing a desperate glance back at Seth and Sandy. This was going to be a long night.  
  
Ryan was unaware of the danger his life was in, the fine spider thread from which he hung. He was floating blissfully in numb darkness, free from pain, free from coherent thought. Fragments of images, sounds and smells began to come and go but none were never vivid enough to draw his full attention. There was a blonde woman cradling him as she stroked his hair. His mother perhaps? Ryan felt love for her but the image did not make him feel safe. There was danger…abandonment behind her eyes. The image faded to be replaced by an engine roar followed by the acrid smell of petroleum. A young man, a brother, grinned at him from the driver's seat. The grin was merely a smile at first but, the longer Ryan looked at it, the wider it grew until teeth and gums seemed to fill the man's entire face in a grotesque pastiche of happiness. The man's face became redder, crimson like oily face paints. The uneasiness Ryan felt was growing until he realised the paint was blood, dripping from his brother's face like the aftermath of some horrific accident. Before he had a chance to communicate, his brother faded once more from view.   
  
Images flashed through the teenager's subconscious brain randomly. At first there was no pattern, just a collection of people and places. Then, gradually, a trend began to form. Whatever the picture, no matter how early the memory, the scene would mutate and contort into a nightmare version of events. Nothing was safe anymore, nothing told Ryan he was loved. There was simply darkness and all the terrors it harboured. If he could have turned away, he would have run for his life. But there was nowhere to escape to; he was trapped inside his own mind, held hostage to the worst fears his subconscious could conjure up.  
  
The helicopter had landed safe and sound at the hospital and so had the Cohens, much to Seth's relief. Sandy had driven well above the speed limit for the entire journey. He had managed to avoid being pulled over but, even with the drama that was happening around them, it was still a white knuckle ride for the family and Marissa. They pulled into the parking lot and headed straight for the emergency room. They were kept waiting behind a queue of other expectant, anxious families wanting to know if their loved ones had been brought in. The wait, even for a few moments, was almost more than Seth could endure.   
  
He had never had a friend like Ryan before. Any guy with muscles and an ounce of cool was usually way off his radar. The only kind of contact Seth Cohen was likely to get with guys like that was a punch in the face or worse. Yet, having Ryan around had been like having the brother his parents never gave him and a best friend who would never betray you all rolled into one. Seth might have only known Ryan for a short time but they had bonded in a way the teenager knew he never would again. He couldn't die now; there was too much they hadn't done together.   
  
Seth followed his parents and Marissa blindly along the corridors, barely registering the sign posts as they passed them. Was he in X-ray? Was he already in the operating theatre? Finally they stopped by the OR where yet another anonymous, harassed surgeon met them. "Mr. Atwood is being prepped for surgery. He has a ruptured spleen as well as damage to his kidneys. We can't ascertain the full extent of these injuries until we've taken a proper look."  
  
"Is he going to be okay?" Kirsten asked.  
  
"He's got a lot of internal bleeding but we'll do everything we can. There are seats if you'd like to wait but he could be in there for several hours. There's a lot of work to do."  
  
"We'd like to stay," Sandy replied firmly.   
  
"Fine. I'll let you know as soon as we have some solid news." The surgeon offered a short smile of hope before returning through the swing doors to the theatres.  
  
The wait was interminable and not even worry and extremely strong cups of coffee could keep the group from drifting into uncomfortable sleep from time to time. Marissa's parents came and went again when she insisted she was staying until she knew Ryan's status. Sandy promised to keep them abreast of any developments and Kirsten was grateful that her husband was able to remain so level-headed and calm in the eye of this unexpected storm.  
  
Finally, the surgeon appeared again, his face completely unreadable. "Mr and Mrs Cohen? Ryan is in recovery now. We managed to stop the bleeding and mend the damage done. We had to remove one of his kidneys but, once his body has healed, that shouldn't pose a major problem. He had several broken bones – ribs, fingers, collar bone, not to mention a lot of severe bruising. All of this will heal with time."  
  
"Can we sit with him?" Seth asked, not sure which answer he really wanted to hear. Out in the hallway, Ryan's predicament was easier to deal with somehow. There was the interminable waiting and never changing view of linoleum, interior decorating magazines and harsh strip lighting but at least things could only be as bad as your imagination allowed. Once he actually saw his friend again, Seth wasn't sure he'd be able to control the well of emotions he'd kept a lid on so far.  
  
The surgeon turned a grave look upon the teenager. "Ryan lost a lot of blood before and during surgery which we are replacing. We've hooked him up to a ventilator until he is strong enough to breathe on his own. Two people at a time and only for short periods of time. We need to keep a close eye on him, make sure he is out of the woods before we release him to a private room." Acknowledging the acquiescing nods around him, the surgeon led the family towards the recovery ICU.   
  
Sandy hung back, allowing his wife to enter the room first. He had never possessed much of a bedside manner and he knew how anxious Kirsten was. Marissa looked like she was about to pass out if she didn't see Ryan and acknowledge that he truly was alive so he let her go first, holding Seth back by one arm.  
  
"Dad?" Seth whined but Sandy's disapproving look was enough to silence him. He strained to get a glimpse of Ryan as the door swung open and the two women entered the ICU.  
  
Marissa opened her mouth to speak but no words would come out. Her throat was parched and paralysed. She had never seen someone look as beaten and frail as Ryan looked right now. A tube ran from his mouth to the respirator and electrode wires ran like spider legs out from the neck of his hospital gown. Kirsten found it hard to accept that he was in better condition now than he had been in the detention centre wing. If anything, Ryan looked worse. The bruises were deepening and the red track marks of scrapes and scratches had dried in burgundy ruts across his pallid skin.   
  
Kirsten looked at the girl beside her, at Marissa's transfixed gaze. "Why don't you talk to him?"  
  
Marissa whispered, "I don't know what to say. I've never seen anyone, I mean, done anything like this before."  
  
"I know. It's okay. He'll be okay," Kirsten said, the words little more than hope and a prayer. "We've just got to give him time."  
  
END OF PART 4  
  
Sorry this part is short and partly repetitive of chapter 2, but I kind of set myself up for it and then couldn't go back. I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think! 


	5. Awakening

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE COHEN  
  
By Allegra  
  
Author's Note: A massive THANK YOU to everyone who has been reviewing & for the all the supportive & constructive comments. Thanks to Kailey for finally guilting me into sitting down & writing this regardless of what kind of mood I was in! Sorry to anonymous reviewer for not specifying whether it's het or slash. It's definitely het, but really there isn't going to be any kind of romance/sexual interaction at all. It's just a straightforward h/c fic.  
  
I'm quite sure a lot of the medical events in here will be completely wrong but I'm hoping fellow angst readers will gloss over that fact! My God, ER has a lot to answer for!! I'm really sorry for the delay again. Now, onto the next chapter…  
  
Part 5 : AWAKENING  
  
Seth pushed a piece of browning lettuce around his plastic plate, disinterestedly. Over the past twenty-four hours, he had tried hard to find ways to amuse himself in the hospital. He had attempted to work out which department had the best looking nurses, guessed what was wrong with each of the visitors to the accident and emergency sections but none of these had kept his mind from returning to the real reason he was there. His best friend was lying, half dead, unaware that anyone was with him, thinking about him, worrying for him.  
  
Seth partly resented the fact that his mother had taken the reins over Ryan's care, practically forcing the other family members aside. Simultaneously, Seth was discovering how bad he was at handling a crisis like this. Left alone to make medical decisions for someone he cared about and sit by their bedside, talking about normal daily activities as if nothing was wrong, seemed near impossible. He just prayed Ryan woke up soon.  
  
Finally pushing the lettuce aside in a final admittance of defeat, Seth shoved his chair out and slumped back in the direction of his friend's room.  
  
Marissa's parents had finally forced her to return home, much to her dismay. Kirsten was sitting with Ryan when Julie Cooper had turned up and instructed her daughter to get in the car. She had tried to be nice about it but it was evident that she Julie felt uncomfortable about the proximity of Marissa to this new boy in the neighbourhood. Even unconscious, apparently a boy from the wrong side of the tracks was cause for concern.  
  
Kirsten had assured Marissa that they would call her if there was any change. If the truth be told, Kirsten was finding it hard enough to hold herself together, let alone have a second child to think about. She was equally as distraught as Marissa but was forced to hide her concern and play the supportive parent. If anything, it was a relief to be able to react however she wanted to.  
  
Now, alone with Ryan, she tried to sort through what feelings she could still identify within the general numbness which had overcome her. Kirsten reached a hand out the teenager's, taking it gently in her own and feeling the weight of his lifeless fingers within her own vital ones. Her gaze traced the youthful face, taking in each line and contour, seeing beyond the bruises and red cuts. Behind the tough exterior was a mere child, a broken one who needed care and love.   
  
Kirsten recalled the expression on Ryan's face the day that his mother had turned up at the Cohens' house. An entire spectrum of emotions had played across the usually unreadable face in that first moment. It was apprehension, maybe even fear, but hope hid in the darkness of Ryan's eyes, at the bottom of Pandora's box. At the time, Kirsten had barely registered what he must have been wondering. Her mind had been elsewhere, feeling the awkwardness of having someone from such a different background walking into her home. Did she think Kirsten was stuck up for having so much, that she had lured her son away with promises and bribery. That thought was followed by wondering if there was anything in the house to feed the woman with, make a decent dinner without calling the local Chinese joint.  
  
Sure, Kirsten had experienced her own family problems, but it was near impossible to fathom the depth of Ryan's pain to be rejected by his mother only to have her return when he had something to offer her. Had she brought a new boyfriend with her? Someone with violence raging in their veins, a beaten boy inside a man's body, all ready to repeat the cycle of abuse with Ryan.  
  
All this went through this mother's mind as she gazed lovingly on the teenager before her. So caught up was she with her own thoughts, that Kirsten did not at first register the minuscule twitch in Ryan's finger. The second one caught her attention. Kirsten stared at his face, looking for any other signs of life. "Ryan?" she whispered, barely allowing herself to believe that he was improving. The respirator tube was still down his throat because the doctors had fear another cardiac arrest. "Ryan?" she repeated, gently.  
  
As if in response to her calming voice, the boy's eyelids fluttered momentarily and Kirsten rubbed his warming hand lightly, willing him to come back to the world of the living. "Ryan? Can you open your eyes?" The eyelids fluttered once more and opened a fraction, a sliver of grey iris showing. "Hey," Kirsten smiled broadly, relief washing over her. The eyes stared right at her, piercing her soul and bringing the guilt about leaving him at the juvenile centre roaring back into her mind.  
  
The effort of simply opening his eyes was more than enough for Ryan and, before she had a chance to say anything more, those grey eyes had closed once more. "Ryan?" Kirsten asked, her voice betraying more concern this time. She chided herself inwardly for pushing him. He had been through so much trauma in such a short space of time. It should be expected that he would need plenty of rest, that he would not be sitting up watching television within days of surgery. Still, Kirsten refused to let go of the teenager's hand. Ryan might be exhausted and drugged up, but he was alive and, somewhere deep inside, her presence would register. She needed him to know she was there for him.  
  
An hour later, Sandy appeared beside her. He had dropped Seth at school, despite their son's protests. He had already managed to squeeze one day off to spend at Ryan's bedside, but there came a point when even Sandy had to admit enough was enough. Ryan's recovery rate was still a complete blank and his injuries were severe enough for the doctors to still question if he would recover at all. Complications as a result of the surgery or bleeding out were all still quite real possibilities.   
  
"How was Seth?" Kirsten asked.  
  
"Oh, he whined the whole way there. I didn't even know he had that much hot air in him. Still, I made sure he went through the gates." Sandy planted a kiss on the top of his wife's head and dropped himself into the plastic bucket chair beside her. "How's he doing?" he asked, nodding towards the placid figure in the giant hospital bed. Somehow, Ryan looked smaller than ever, his feet barely seeming to reach halfway down the bed.  
  
"He woke up for a second earlier," Kirsten said in a non-committal tone.  
  
Sandy's eyes widened and he looked over at Ryan again as if expecting to see something different about him. "Well, did he say anything? What happened?"  
  
Kirsten calmed him, "He couldn't speak. He just woke up and looked at me for a second then passed out again."  
  
"What did the doctor say?" Sandy asked.  
  
"They refused to take the tube out, saying his body still wasn't strong enough to cope on its own. They just told me to keep an eye on him and let them know if it happened again." Kirsten glanced in concern at Sandy, both thinking what neither would say – that Ryan might not wake up again.  
  
Sandy, never one for great shows of emotion, immediately turned conversation away to more mundane topics, such as what they would eat that night and his latest surfing achievements. Kirsten listened mutely, her mind tuning him out as she watched Ryan.  
  
It could have been a few minutes or an hour but silence had descended on the room. Kirsten and Sandy were snoozing lightly in their chairs when Ryan awakened once more. The first Kirsten knew of the event was a choking sound followed by panting, laboured wheezes. Her eyes flew open to see Ryan writhing as much as his weakened, broken body would allow. His unbroken hand was reaching at the tube down his throat, tearing feebly at the plastic in a desperately futile gesture.  
  
Sandy awoke with a start as Kirsten tried to restrain the boy. She leaned over the bed, easily pinning his arm back to the bed and staring directly into the fearful grey eyes. "Ryan, it's okay! It's okay. Ryan, look at me," she commanded, changing her tone from motherly to stern. "Hey, calm down." Panicked, she turned to Sandy who had jumped up but was standing awkwardly and speechlessly beside the bed. "Get the doctor in her! A nurse! Anyone!"  
  
Mumbling incoherently, Sandy rushed from the room, leaving Kirsten alone with the terrified teenager. His face was crimson with the effort of trying to breathe with no success.   
  
Ryan stared up at her, the desperate panic filling his gaze. He willed her to help him, to save him from choking to death. Dark spots danced before his eyes and Ryan could hear the gurgling of his life breath being sucked out of him. He was dying, he knew it. This woman standing over him…was she going to save him? Something surfaced from his subconscious, a reminder that he would not be saved, that no one would rescue him. He as alone, dying alone. He grappled weakly for the firm hand pinning him down, trying to wrench himself free from this pain but the hand was too strong.   
  
Just as the spots obscuring his vision blurred into one hazy cloud, a clear voice pierced the void, instructing him to breathe out. In one fluid motion, a strange abrasive sensation ran down the sensitive tissue at the back of his throat and Ryan could breathe once more. Within moments, his vision cleared once more and his surroundings gradually came back into focus.  
  
Kirsten and Sandy stood in shock beside the bed as a doctor and nurse moved methodically around Ryan's bed, checking monitors, adjusting dosages and checking his vitals. Removing the stethoscope from beneath the top of Ryan's hospital gown, the doctor turned to the pair with a half smile. "Well, his heart is certainly sounding a lot steadier. I think our young patient has turned a corner."  
  
"Thank God," Kirsten breathed.  
  
"Well, don't get too comfortable yet. Ryan's journey is a maze and there are plenty more corners to be tackled. This, however, was one corner he had to do on his own. He's a tough boy."  
  
"Yeah, that he is," Sandy replied, quietly, shuddering as he recalled how Ryan had found himself in this mess.  
  
The doctor sent the nurse to get ice chips to soothe Ryan's parched throat and turned back to the Cohens. "I'll have the nurse check on him every hour until we are sure Ryan is back amongst the land of the living for good. For now, I'm sure he'd appreciate you staying with him. Just don't wear him out." With a reassuring smile, he left the room.  
  
Kirsten sat down beside Ryan and gently took his hand in her own once more. The nurse returned with ice chips and carefully fed a couple to the teenager who accepted them gratefully and closed his eyes. For a moment, Kirsten thought he had fallen asleep, but then those grey eyes fixed upon her again. It was disconcerting how impenetrable they were. They stared at her and Kirsten squirmed under their scrutiny. "Hey, Ryan. How are you feeling?"  
  
He did not answer at first and the two adults wondered if the power of speech had left him. It would seem strange to hear that voice again after so much time spent watching over him in silence. Finally, he whispered, "Kinda numb." Ryan's voice was scratchy and hoarse from the respirator tube; even as he spoke, his eyes pierced Kirsten, flickering occasionally towards Sandy.  
  
"Do you remember what happened?" Sandy asked, aware of how uncomfortable Kirsten seemed. "Do you know where you are?"  
  
The shake of Ryan's head was barely perceptible but it was enough. Kirsten glanced down at the magazine in her lap, finding it impossible to maintain eye contact with the teenager. It was as if he could see into her soul, see the guilt that lay there, the knowledge that all of this had happened because of her. She had abandoned him again, just like his own family had done.   
  
Kirsten fought back the tears which threatened to spill over and lifted her head, determined to do something towards making it up to Ryan now. She could not hide her head in shame from him forever. She braced herself to meet that gaze once more. This time, Ryan's eyes wandered from one concerned face to another, a flicker of a frown passing across his bruised brow.  
  
Sandy began, "You're in the hospital. Seth wanted to stay with you but we figured he ought to get back in school."  
  
Ryan whispered, "Seth?"  
  
"Yeah," Sandy rambled on, oblivious to the difficulty Ryan was having grasping all of these words. "He was real cut up that I wouldn't let him carry on his bedside manner for the rest of the week. He'll be thrilled to know you're awake. Maybe after school…"  
  
Kirsten rested a hand on her husband's arm. "Sandy…" her voice trailed off. She could tell that something was wrong. The indecipherable gaze Ryan had fixed them with had altered to one of confusion and concern. "Ryan? Are you okay?"  
  
"I just…" he managed, weakly. A flicker of panic crossed his face once more. "Who are you?"  
  
END OF PART 5  
  
Just as a word of warning, there definitely won't be a new chapter for at least a fortnight because I've got an insanely hectic schedule. But, for all those lovely people who have pestered me and not given up, you'll probably think that's a bit better going than the wait between previous posts! Sorry for that! 


	6. Forgotten

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE COHEN  
  
By Allegra  
  
Author's Note : OK, so maybe it was a little more than a fortnight between posts but I really hope someone is still reading this! I had no idea that someone else had already used this idea - I must have missed that angst story! However, I don't have plans to make this a serious amnesia story. Thanks again to all my fantabulous reviewers. I wouldn't have got past chapter one without your comments & encouragement. I hope this part is a worthy instalment.  
  
Also, thank you to ctoan for reminding me that the time frame of my story means Ryan's mother hadn't visited yet, so this fic has become sort of AU in order to accommodate reversing those episodes. Ryan has seen his mother before he ends up in juvie. I also sent Seth and Marissa back to school when, as far as I remember, this was all still in the summer holidays. So, let's make it completely AU & ignore my complete lack of continuity!!  
  
PART 6 : FORGOTTEN  
  
"But he doesn't remember us! He doesn't remember anything. How are we supposed to deal with that?" Sandy asked of the doctor, trying to keep calm in the face of such shock. He desperately wanted to shake the white-coated man before him and force some kind of reaction out of him. These professionals had seen too many horrific cases to even bat an eyelid over such a small problem as amnesia. Sandy was frantic. As if his family hadn't been through enough without this little gift.  
  
The doctor stood firm but his lips tightened as Sandy's aggression mounted. Sandy had played enough poker games across the legal table to notice each twitching muscle and he was quick to back down. If he allowed his anger to get the better of him, the doctor was more likely to simply walk away than actually help him. Running a hand through his dark hair, Sandy took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, that was rude. I'm just worried about the implications of this for Ryan. My wife's in there with him now, but she doesn't know what to say any more than I do. We just need a little guidance here, some kind of reassurance that everything..." Sandy tailed off, realising what he was actually asking for - a promise that Ryan would recover.  
  
The doctor, Dr. Swift, fixed Sandy's dishevelled form with something bordering on sympathy and he put his hands in his pockets. "Mr. Cohen. I can't make promises. I'm a doctor, not God. The brain is a complicated organ and the way a person manipulates it, subconsciously or otherwise, is beyond our understanding. However, I can give you the medical facts." Sandy nodded, grateful for any kind of assurance at this critical point. "Ryan's wave patterns are normal with no erratic brain activity. In other words, there is no indication of brain damage."  
  
"Then why can't he remember us?" Sandy interjected, desperately.  
  
"The blows he received to his head were enough to give us cause for concern. Even without brain damage, the beating probably resulted in a swelling the brain. This can manifest itself in a variety of ways. Clearly, in this case, Ryan's short-term memory has suffered. I'll run some tests to be sure and perhaps if you could assess the last thing Ryan does remember."  
  
"So, as the swelling goes down, Ryan's memory will return?" Sandy clarified.  
  
"God willing," Swift replied.  
  
"God? I thought you guys didn't believe in him." Sandy smiled wanly. "Thank you, doctor." He turned back to the door of Ryan's recovery room, preparing himself mentally for the task before him.  
  
Seth sat alone at lunch that day. It was a position he was used to, being passed by as if he didn't exist. At one time, that had bothered him. Now, he didn't care. His mind was as far from school as it could escape. It wandered back to the hospital bed where his new found best friend lay, helpless and injured. It sucked that he was forced to come to school and sit through the insignificance of trigonometry and grammar when there were more important events happening in the real world. It didn't matter if he knew how the square root of 782. What use was that if his friend died?  
  
Lost in his reverie, Seth didn't notice Marissa approach his table and sit down beside him. "Hey," she said, softly, eyeing him awkwardly. They had barely spoken until Ryan had arrived in Newport, and it still felt weird having a conversation without him to bridge the huge social abyss which had separated them for so long.   
  
"Hey," Seth managed, suddenly not caring how it looked to see Marissa Cooper eating lunch beside Seth Cohen, loser of the century.  
  
"Why do we have to be here? I haven't listened to word anyone's said to me all morning." Marissa pushed the straw into her carton of orange juice and sat back miserably.  
  
"Tell me about it. Plus, we've only got gym class this afternoon. What's the point of that?"  
  
Marissa's eyes roamed over the hordes of students around them before returning to Seth. "Why don't we skip class? We're old enough to make our own decisions. What are our folks going to say? That we've missed vital work for our SATS? I don't think so. It's pathetic. I'm not taking orders from them."  
  
Seth looked her up and down. He had always thought Marissa Cooper to be the epitome of Newport social elite - the perfect life, perfect hair and clothes. Only since Ryan arrived had he begun to see how off the rails she really was. There was a reckless streak in Marissa that even put Ryan to shame. "Let's go."  
  
"It's okay, sweetheart, it'll all come back to you." Despite the shock, Kirsten had mustered all the comfort she could. If she was terrified at this new revelation, Ryan must feel it tenfold. The last thing he needed was someone else to lose their grip.   
  
Sandy placed a placating hand on his wife's shoulder. Ryan's gaze was removed, distant, fixed somewhere on the far wall. Sandy leaned close to Kirsten and whispered, "We've got to find out what he remembers." Ryan's eyes suddenly turned to the older man and Sandy forced a smile to his lips before sitting on the edge of the bed. "Hey there, kid. Listen, I've spoken to the doctors and they're all really pleased with your recovery." He licked his lips which had suddenly dried. Ryan did nothing, said nothing, made no acknowledgement that he had even heard the words. "Can you tell me the last thing you remember?" he continued.  
  
Ryan looked hard at Sandy for a moment. He felt like there was cotton wool where his brain ought to be. It was too much effort to speak, let alone rifle through old memories, ordering them and finding the most recent. Part of him was more afraid of reaching for them only to find none existed anymore, that everything had been erased forever. He searched this man's face - the heavy, dark eyebrows and hair, those arresting blue eyes which begged him to trust him. It all looked vaguely familiar but nothing stood out. Sandy's face was nothing more than a strong sense of deja-vu.   
  
Then, Ryan shifted his gaze to Kirsten's anxious face beside him. She was holding his hand, squeezing it gently. He could feel that, but his emotions towards her were disordered and mixed. The deja-vu was stronger here and his senses struggled to place her. The blonde haired woman of his dreams, her smile and caresses. His mother? Then the feeling altered, the waters poisoned with blackness where they ran clear only seconds before. Ryan sensed pain, resentment, perhaps even hatred. He fought to capture the moment, to give it a time, place and meaning, but all he experienced was fear and panic. He needed to be free, away from her.  
  
Ryan tugged his hand free from Kirsten's and tried to sit up, his eyes desperate and wild. "No..." he murmured as he felt Sandy's strong arms pinning him back down to the bed. "No, let me go, let me go..." Ryan's eyes rolled wildly as he fought back, never letting Kirsten out of his sight.   
  
"Ryan, it's okay. Be still," Kirsten cooed, trying to calm him, but she only made things worse.   
  
The teenager opened his mouth to shout but his voice caught in his throat as searing pain lanced down his back. His breath hitched and it was all he could do to get oxygen into his starved lungs. Sandy forced him back onto the bed but it barely took any strength at all to subdue the weakened boy. "Ryan, calm down. It's okay."  
  
"Sweetheart, we're on your side. We're not going to hurt you," Kirsten said, soothingly. "Don't you remember?" She felt tears welling in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.  
  
Ryan could not control himself so adeptly. "No, I don't...I can't remember...I can't..." His chest heaved as he struggled for breath and each word grew fainter and fainter as the fight left him. A few tears squeezed out from under his tightly closed lids. Kirsten had never seen him in such a state. She had barely believed it was possible for Ryan to cry real tears and yet now she saw him in all his vulnerability. "It hurts so bad.... What happened to me? God, it hurts..." His voice trailed away until the only audible sounds in the room were the beeps of the monitor and Ryan's harsh breathing.  
  
Sandy relinquished his hold on the boy's arms and sat back, exchanging horrified looks with Kirsten. Sitting back, he adopted his calmest tone. "Ryan, listen to me. Some guys picked a fight with you. You were lucky to get out alive, but you're okay now. Everything's going to be okay."  
  
"My back?" Ryan queried, slowly taking control of himself once more. "It hurts so bad."  
  
"Your kidney ruptured and it had to be fixed up, plus there was some bruising to your spine."  
  
"What? Can I walk?"  
  
"One step at a time, kiddo. Yes, the doctors say you'll walk again. You also suffered several fractures, including cheekbone, ribs and fingers. But hey, you're through the worst of it. I promise you, everything's going to be okay." Sandy patted Ryan's hand thoughtfully.  
  
"But I can't remember anything," the teenager replied, sadly.  
  
"Hey, it was one hell of a beating you took. The swelling to your brain will take a while to go down and then it'll all come flooding back to you. You'll see." Kirsten appreciated her husband's assuring tone; she was running out of energy and words to say which might make the situation better.  
  
"What you really need to do now though is rest," she added, smoothing Ryan's hair off his forehead. "We'll stay with you. Don't worry, don't worry about a thing." She rested her hand against his warm skin for a few moments, watching the heavy eyelids slowly close and Ryan's chest rise and fall in even strides. Now they were back to the waiting game once more.  
  
END OF PART 6  
  
I think blackmail is the key here - Please, please review - or Ryan might never wake up again!! 


	7. You Only Live Twice

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE COHEN  
  
By Allegra  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow! Can you believe 'coz I can't?! I finished a whole other chapter in less than a week since the last one went up! Just goes to show what the summer holidays will do for you. I wonder if it will last…? A massive thank you to all you lovely people who have been reviewing. You are so generous & thank you sooo much for taking the time to pass on your encouragement, appreciation, comments & queries. It has been making this a truly enjoyable experience.   
  
I'd also like to say a HUGE thank you to the anonymous person who nominated this story for a Citrus Award. It put a grin on my face for a good 24 hours straight! I hope you enjoy this next chapter.   
  
PART 7 : YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE  
  
Marissa had never been more grateful to her dad for refusing to drop her at school at that morning. He had an early meeting to attend and couldn't wait for her to preen for half an hour in the mirror. So, luckily, she now had wheels which she wasted no time in using. Marissa didn't know Seth Cohen very well but she imagined this was probably the quietest he had ever been. They barely spoke for the first half mile on the freeway.  
  
Finally, she asked, "So, do you think he'll be awake?"  
  
Seth shrugged, "I don't know. I kind of hope not." He caught her surprised glance and immediately tried to defend his comment. "That is to say, I hope…I mean, it's just…" He floundered to find words which would amply sum up the rollercoaster of emotions he had been feeling for the past few days.  
  
Marissa saved him the difficulty. "Hey, it's okay. I know what you mean. I've been kind of thinking the same thing. I mean, as worried as I am about him, Ryan's not the kind of soft-centred guy it's easy to be sensitive with."  
  
"Yeah, not big on talking. I'm imagining sitting by his bedside would almost be easier when his eyes are closed." Seth was silent, considering his words for a moment. "Then again, I just want him to be okay again. If he doesn't wake up, then things aren't looking too good…and I really want him to be well again."  
  
"Yeah, me too," Marissa replied, quietly. It was stating the obvious but these were the words which had been circling, unvoiced, in everyone's heads since the incident.   
  
The pair didn't speak again until they pulled into a hospital parking space and made their way mutely to Ryan's room. "Hey," Seth grabbed Marissa's arm just as she touched the door handle.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Have you got a speech?" Marissa stared back at him blankly. "You know, a reason why we skipped an afternoon of school?"  
  
Marissa rolled her eyes. "Yeah, like the fact that someone very important to me is lying in hospital while I'm expected to go to gym class. Just chill." Ignoring the stutter which preceded another monologue from her companion, Marissa pushed the door open.  
  
Ryan appeared to be sleeping. His face and neck still displayed a bloom bruises which showed no sign of fading for a while yet. A monitor beeped softly in the background but he was off the respirator which both teenagers took to be a healthy sign of recovery.  
  
Sandy and Kirsten turned, their faces shifting from wearied concern to surprise and anger in one swift, fluid movement. Kirsten whispered loudly, "Marissa? Seth! What are you kids doing here? You're supposed to be at school."   
  
Sandy raised his eyebrows in his wife's direction, softly adding, "You really need to ask? Come on, honey. What difference is one afternoon going to make?"  
  
Kirsten turned her anger back on her husband. "It's not one afternoon I'm worried about, it's all the others which will follow on. Oh, and thanks for the support, husband."  
  
Sandy pulled a face and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, sorry I spoke. But they're here now. It's too late to send them back to class, so let's make the most of it." He sent a pointed glance in the direction of Ryan's bed. Kirsten sighed and nodded. For a split second, Ryan's presence had slipped her mind.  
  
"Okay, you've got half an hour with Ryan and then the pair of you are going home. Do you understand?" Kirsten waited for the furtive nods of agreement. Ryan shifted beside her and she quickly added, "Can I just have a quick word with both of you outside for a second?"

* * *

The news of Ryan's condition came as a shock to both teenager; even Seth was lost for words. Kirsten tried her hardest to play the severity of his amnesia down, reminding them that, just like the bruises on his face, so the swelling in Ryan's skull would gradually go down and he would be the same person they always knew.  
  
"But how are we supposed to talk to him like that? I mean, I don't know what to say to him," Seth said, desperately.  
  
Kirsten reached out one hand to rub his arm in reassurance. "It's okay, honey. Ryan wants to try and remember, he needs you to help him get there."  
  
Marissa nodded, slowly digesting this information. "How far back does he remember? Does he remember anything?"  
  
"We don't know yet. Sandy and I have tried to gentle. He's pretty tired out so go easy on him." She looked from one bewildered teenager to the other. "Just be yourselves. Ryan's still the same person, he just can't remember it yet."

* * *

"I must know you guys, huh?" Ryan broke the silence in the room. A small smile played on his lips but it was not returned. "I'm sorry. I guess I've got a lot to remember."  
  
"I'm Marissa. We're...friends." Marissa had never had to explain her relationship with Ryan before and it was even more surreal to be saying it to him of all people. She could almost feel the heat climbing her cheeks as she spoke. He was staring so hard at her, harder than he ever had before. His grey eyes seemed to know more than Ryan let on, as if he were secretly fully aware of the ambiguous "friendship" they shared. "Do you remember that?"  
  
Ryan's stare did not waver as he shook his head. "Sorry," was all he managed in response.  
  
"And I'm Seth. We kind of live together. I mean, you live with me."  
  
"We live together?" Ryan enquired, frowning a little as he tried to make sense of this life he had no recollection of.   
  
Suddenly hearing how that sounded, Seth hastily added, "Not like that though. You're more like a brother, a brother who lives in the pool house."  
  
"Pool house? I live in a pool house?"  
  
"Yeah, my parents kind of took you in for a bit." Seth stopped at that. If Ryan was still unsure how far back he could remember, perhaps reminding him of his crappy childhood was a bit too much to explain in one sitting.  
  
"Don't I have parents of my own?"  
  
Then again.... Seth prepared himself for the long biography. "You got in some trouble, my dad's a lawyer so he helped you out. Anyway, your dad isn't in the picture and you mom is not exactly reliable. She kind of kicked you out. You had nowhere to go so..."  
  
"...your parents let me live with you? Wow, they must be pretty great folks to do that." Ryan looked intently at Seth for a moment until he saw the teenager's eyes dart in Marissa's direction and he cleared his throat uncertainly. "I'm sorry," Ryan said softly, unable to really excuse his odd behaviour. "You just don't look familiar to me."  
  
Marissa desperately wanted to hold his hand, to reassure him, but she knew she couldn't. Not like this. He might get the wrong impression. But that was just the problem, it was the right impression, just at the wrong time. She was more afraid of letting an amnesiac Ryan aware of the strange attraction which lay between them. She couldn't do that to Luke. "This must be so hard for you...not being able to remember anything about yourself or your friends, your entire life."  
  
Seth shot Marissa an exasperated look, "Yeah, well I bet he feels a lot better for hearing you say it out loud. Geez!"  
  
"No, it's okay. I guess I'm still kind of in a daze right now. I can't seem to make sense of anything." Ryan's voice was slow and slurred, little more than a whisper alongside Seth's forced buoyancy. "The doctors say I just need time."  
  
"You mean until your brain gets back to normal size?" Seth joked.  
  
"Yeah, that's it." The mention of his physical state brought sensation back into sharp focus once more. For a time, the pain medication had dulled his senses, making it difficult to think, let alone acknowledge his injuries. Now, he was lucid if still a bit groggy, but the pain was slowly returning. He could feel a monotonous throbbing in his lower back and every time he moved, Ryan winced with the sharp sensation of injured muscle, broken bones and numerous cuts and bruises. Then, with the feeling, came the question: how had he ended up like this? Now, he finally had the voice to ask it. "So I got beat up? Do you live in a rough neighbourhood?"   
  
Seth shook his head, "You come from Chino but we're in Newport now, Orange County." Ryan looked at him blankly; the address meant nothing to him. Seth elaborated, "Man, you live in a pool house, like the house that goes with the pool, so no, it's not a rough neighbourhood. Although, you did manage to find yourself a fight practically every trip out somewhere."  
  
"So that's how I ended up here? I picked a fight?" Ryan was trying to reconcile what Sandy Cohen had told him with what Seth was telling him now. He needed to know how he had screwed up so bad that he had ended up in intensive care. Again, a sliver of emotion returned to him - he was a disappointment, worthless. Who had told him that? The blonde lady? The one who was here before? The woman in his fevered dreams?  
  
"No, you didn't pick a fight. You got picked..." Seth paused, unsure how much more information his confused and weakened friend could handle at this point. "Do you really want to hear this? It's kind of complicated, not to mention pretty nasty."  
  
"If it helps me put the pieces back together, yes." Ryan's voice was firm this time.  
  
Marissa shook her head, uncertainly. "I don't know. You've been through a lot in the past few days, Ryan. Don't you think you should take it easy for a while? Concentrate on getting physically well. I mean, for all you know, your memory might come back tomorrow."  
  
"No, I want to know. I need to..." Ryan pleaded, his voice soft and vulnerable.  
  
Seth pondered where to start this story. It was like some kind of gender switched Cinderella, except at the stroke of midnight, Ryan had found himself back in juvie. "Okay, well, your brother got you involved in car theft and you both got caught. You managed to get off with my dad's help. Basically, you went home and got kicked out by your mom. That's how you ended up living in our pool house. Then, Luke..." Seth glanced furtively at Marissa.  
  
"My boyfriend. It's a long story - later," she added.  
  
"Luke thought you were into Marissa so he beat you up but managed to burn down this house you were hiding in at the same time." He stopped, aware of how absurd this entire saga was sounding. "Anyway, the point is both you and Luke got questioned by the police. Luke got off easy because he was a first time offender but you had a few black marks on your record already. That's how you ended up in the juvenile detention centre and that's how you got beat up. Some losers singled you out." Seth took a deep breath as he finally came to the end of his summing up. He had quite enjoyed relaying what was actually quite a yarn that he had almost forgotten the entire purpose of telling it.  
  
It was Marissa who leaned forward, watching Ryan's responses closely. "Ryan? Do you remember any of this?"  
  
Ryan didn't respond. His sluggish mind was working through the information, trying to make sense of what he couldn't understand. He couldn't process it properly; the pain in his back had grown from a dull ache to twinges of pain which coursed up his spine like sparks. A headache was spreading through his skull from temple to temple as if an elephant was slowly crushing him. Ryan tried to shift in the bed and was rewarded with a fiery stabbing pain in the area of his kidneys. He was unable to stifle the sharp cry which issued from his mouth and the agonised wince, both of which instantly put his friends into action.  
  
Marissa placed a hand on his shoulder, pressing down on another tender bruise, but Ryan was too preoccupied with the flaring agony elsewhere to notice such an insignificant injury. "Are you okay? Ryan?" The urgent concern in her eyes showed and caught Ryan's attention. Those eyes looked familiar to him now; he had stared into them before, hadn't he? Not as a friend.  
  
Seth stood up, "Do you want me to get someone?" He noticed the way Ryan's face had stilled, resting in a moment of calm between him and Marissa. The pair's eyes were locked in a beam of sentiment that they both shared. Seth wished that the floor would open and swallow him up; it was like sitting next to a couple on a sofa where they both spend the entire time kissing.   
  
Seth was just about to slip from the room when Marissa broke the moment. "Are you sure you're okay?" As if on cue, Ryan's breathing hitched once more and his face contorted into a frown of discomfort when he moved. His breath came in short gasps as if he were struggling for air.  
  
"Seth, get the doctor," Marissa instructed, her momentary hysteria replaced with calm concern. Her hand moved to Ryan's warm forehead, brushing her slender fingers through his hair. "Sssh, it's going to be okay. Everything's going to be fine."  
  
Even through the pain, Ryan felt torn. He wanted to lean into that touch, so warm and tender, yet another part of him drew him back and told him to recoil from something that would never last, from happiness. Refusing to meet Marissa's gaze, Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the agony still searing like a hot poker in his back. Seconds later, a doctor appeared with a stethoscope in hand. He brushed Marissa aside to examine his patient, then barked a dosage at the accompanying nurse who went to find a vial and administered an injection into Ryan's IV line.  
  
The doctor turned to Seth and Marissa. "I think you two had better go. Ryan's had a lot of excitement today and his body needs rest to heal. The pain killers will make him drowsy and it is better that he succumb to the fatigue than fight it." Nodding emphatically, the two teenagers were ushered out of the room, leaving Ryan alone to his tumultuous thoughts.  
  
The pain killers seemed to be slow acting, either that, or his body was fighting its side effects. Ryan wanted to remember, he wanted to be clear headed. He didn't want to cry though and he struggled to hold back the damp tears which threatened to spill from his eyes. They were few but Ryan had the feeling that it wasn't something he indulged in very often.  
  
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, refusing to admit he was hurting, both physically and mentally. He was going to be fine, he could look after himself, just like it sounded he had always done. Yet, random, unconnected images stole across his darkening vision. Marissa's wide eyes, open yet somehow melancholy, as if she were carrying a heavy burden inside. Perhaps that was why he felt so drawn to her - because she was a kindred soul, struggling to stay sane in a world full of confusion and disappointment. Had they shared the same trouble? Or was it unspoken? Had they been more than friends?   
  
As the drugs took effect, numbing his battered body, Ryan found it increasingly difficult to focus on one thought at a time. Marissa morphed into the blonde woman from his bedside, Kirsten. Was she really the woman from his dream or was his mind playing tricks? He had felt something emanating from her - anger, sadness, guilt even - all of it telling Ryan she had betrayed him once.  
  
Perhaps Marissa had been right. He shouldn't have listened to the pathetic story of his life. It was like reliving it, trying to understand the rejection, the bad luck, the suffering it had clearly entailed. As drug-induced slumber forced itself upon him, Ryan felt fear, fear that he had unleashed a torrent of heartache that no one should experience even once, let alone endure twice.  
  
END OF PART 7 


	8. Release

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE COHEN   
  
By Allegra  
  
Author's Ramble: Um, not much to say before this one but a chapter wouldn't be complete without a ramble. Big thank you if anyone has voted for me in the Citrus Awards & a massive thank you to all of my luscious reviewers. You're the greatest! I'm so glad to be amidst such considerate & supportive company. I hope you enjoy the chapter.  
  
PART 8 : RELEASE  
  
The days melted into nights and back again, the tides ebbed and flowed, visitors came and went as the instruments supporting Ryan's life were gradually removed. Most of the extra electrodes were removed from the teenager's chest and, as he regained strength, Ryan was allowed to eat properly, instead of being given his essential vitamins through an unwelcome tube. After several days, he was moved to a general ward where he maintained stony silence to avoid conversations with his fellow hospital inmates.   
  
Ryan's memories had been playing hide and seek with him for the past five days or so. They would flash before him in Technicolor only to retreat as soon as he tried to make sense of them. It was a frustrating position which Ryan found almost unbearable to endure. There was no warning as to when a memory might surface – from looking at a cup, while he was staring into space, or while a nurse changed a dressing. It was partly because of their erratic appearance that Ryan stayed quiet. He wanted to be ready when the next one hit him.   
  
He felt bad for the Cohens and Marissa. Someone had visited him every day and he could tell from the expectant expressions on their faces as they arrived that they were hoping there'd be some improvement. Every day had been a disappointment for all of them and Ryan had been afraid to tell them about these flashes of light he was experiencing. What if that's all they were? What if he was doomed to live the rest of his life without remembering anything about who he was or where he came from? It didn't bear thinking about.  
  
Until today, Ryan had thought his life couldn't be any worse than lying in this damned bed, recovering from injuries he couldn't remember getting, talking to people he couldn't place and thinking about what would become of him. Then, the doctor had told him with a smile that he could go home the next day. His sojourn in the juvenile detention centre had been ended abruptly when the Cohens agreed to take Ryan into their custody.   
  
Kirsten had reminded him of the days he had already spent living in their pool house, although Ryan could only nod in simple acknowledgement. He couldn't picture the place she referred to, even if his life depended on it. Now, the harsh reality of how much worse the situation could get was beginning to dawn on the hapless teenager. Instead of lying in a bed feeling sorry for himself, he had to walk around town, a town probably full of people who had an advantage over him – remembering him when he could not. It was going to be torture. Every night would be spent under the roof of people who seemed to care so much about him that it Ryan felt physical pain when he thought about how difficult it must be to have him around.  
  
"Hi, Ryan!" Kirsten's smiling face appeared beside the bed. "How's the patient today?"  
  
Ryan feigned a smile in return and lied, "Good. You know you really don't have to come every day. You must have plenty of other stuff to do." Noticing how her face fell, he added quickly. "I mean, it's nice to have the company, but don't feel like you have to…"  
  
Kirsten drew up a chair and sat down. "Hey, this is the best bit of the day. Plus, I get to buy tons of chocolate for you and then eat it all myself." She laughed, drawing another feeble smile out of Ryan. "So, anything interesting happen here today?" she asked, glancing round the room to see if there were any new patients.  
  
"No, just watching paint dry. Oh, and the doctor says I get out tomorrow." Ryan scrutinised Kirsten's face to see what reaction the news would elicit.   
  
Her eyes barely flickered at the statement before lighting up with excitement. "Really? Ryan, that's great. Ooh, now let me think. I'll take the day off to come pick you up and get you settled back at home. Or maybe Sandy should drive. Now, I know Seth will want to be at home but he's missed so much school…"  
  
"It's okay. I don't want any fuss, you know. In fact, I was going to say," Ryan paused, trying to gauge what Kirsten wanted to hear the most, "I can easily get a motel or something. You guys don't have to do all this. I mean, I'm not even your son. You shouldn't have to look after me…"  
  
Kirsten cut him off, resting a warm hand on the teenager's arm. "Ryan, stop. Listen to me. We want you at home with us. It's where you belong. I know you don't remember that now, but you will. We're in this together, so I don't want to hear talk like that. Got it?" She cast him her sternest look.  
  
Ryan bowed under her gaze. "Got it."  
  
Kirsten moved one finger up and down the inside of Ryan's arm, reassuringly. "Okay, well I'm going to find your doctor and check what time we can pick you up tomorrow. Here, I brought you some more magazines. Seth gave me a few titles he thought you'd like."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Kirsten moved away from the bed towards the door at the end of the ward. She spared a brief glance back at Ryan, noting the pale skin and blank expression which clearly hid a well of misery fathoms deep. She couldn't begin to imagine the turmoil his mind must be in and it seemed all the worse because Kirsten also knew how much Ryan was holding inside. She had always had family, people who cared about her, to rely on for support. Her father might not be the best listener, but Kirsten had always found a sympathetic ear in her mother or sister and then in Sandy. It was difficult to imagine not having that, being like Ryan, a self-sufficient person who could only rely on one person – himself. It was going to take time but Kirsten hoped she'd be one of the people to help change that.

* * *

Seth rearranged the pile of comics for the twelfth time. They just didn't look right next to the vase of flowers his mom had insisted they place on Ryan's bedside table. He had set up the Playstation together with a ton of games for his friend to play but the key to making the pool house look welcoming was to remind Ryan that it was his domain. Everything had to look like the Cohens had made an effort before he came home but not so much of an effort that it was like the teenager had never lived there.  
  
Seth jumped at the sound of Marissa's voice. "It's been so long I almost can't imagine what Ryan will look like without the hospital setting. Stupid, huh?"  
  
"Nah. I'll just set up an IV for him and he'll be sweet."  
  
Marissa rolled her eyes. "Don't joke. It might be the truth. He didn't look so hot yesterday when I visited. It wouldn't surprise me if they sent him home with a ton of tubes still attached." Seth held back a shrill cry of protest as Marissa flung herself back on the bed. "So, did your folks let you stay home today?"  
  
Seth sat down beside her. "No. They said I'd missed too much school already. Plus, you know they're probably right. Aside from that, Ryan's probably going to be really tired and, as much as I like the guy, he can be pretty boring when he's sleeping."  
  
"You're going to have to see him some time, Seth," Marissa pointed out, not missing a thing.  
  
"I know," Seth protested, as if he had just been concerned for Ryan's health. "I'm just trying to be a bit considerate, you know." He paused before asking, "If you want to see Ryan, why don't you come for dinner tonight?"  
  
Marissa sighed and picked up a cushion, fiddling with the brocade. "I don't know. It doesn't seem like such a good idea when Ryan's fresh out of hospital. I mean, he probably needs rest like you say, not a load of questions."  
  
Seth shrugged, "Well, it's up to you, but you have been visiting him every day so far. Maybe a home setting is exactly what we need to stop things being so…weird."  
  
Marissa nodded but didn't answer. Then, grabbing her bag, she ushered him out. "Come on, we're going to be late for school if we don't get a move on."

* * *

It had been another sleepless night for Ryan. Most nights were plagued with nightmares or he'd lie awake into the small hours of the morning, his mind wrestling with a future he could barely contemplate without feeling like his insides were being ripped apart. Sometimes he felt like his brain might explode with the sheer magnitude of his feelings, while other times he was simply propping his eyelids open to avoid the worse terrors sleep would bring.   
  
On several occasions, Ryan had woken up, drenched in sweat, already sitting up before his eyes had even opened. He would look around the ward in panic, afraid that he had cried out and drawn attention to himself. If he had, nobody seemed to notice. The nightmares varied but only one stayed with him in the waking world, as chilling with the sun streaming on his face as it was in the silvery stillness of night.   
  
It began the same way every time – he was floating on a raft somewhere out in the ocean. Somehow, Ryan knew he couldn't swim in the dream, that he was tied to the raft and that shore was too far away to contemplate reaching. Yet, he was not afraid. He felt at peace, being rocked gently by the sea's current. For a long time, he just gazed up at the sky and the sun, sometimes tracking the path of a bird flying high towards the clouds. Then, something would catch his attention, a glint on the water. When he looked closer, Ryan realised that it was a book with a shiny cover. It was a story with pictures. Somehow, he knew it would help him find his way home. Every time, his dream-self would lean over the edge of the raft, trying to catch hold of the book as it bobbed just out of reach. His fingers would spread wide, stiffening to try and lengthen their stretch, but the book was always too far away.   
  
Finally, his fingers would touch the soggy jacket of the book and Ryan would almost have it in his grasp. Simultaneously, the ocean would alter; it's colour would slowly dim until the water was inky black. The waves grew, bubbles rose and Ryan could see a huge shape moving swiftly towards his raft under the surface. He never saw its face; he was only aware of its size…and the danger it presented. In the dream, the raft would shake violently, tossed relentlessly on the story sea, until Ryan was tipped into the water. He tried to cry out but salt water choked his voice. He would claw his way up through the thick liquid, scrambling for air. As he surfaced, Ryan realised the taste in his mouth was more metallic than salty and, looking down at his hands, he realised it was blood he had swallowed. It tasted familiar, almost comforting.   
  
At first the dreams had stopped there. But then his mind pushed him further into the nightmare. As he tried to understand where the blood issued from, his feet would be brushed by the creature still circling in the depths below him. It felt cold and clammy against his skin, yet smooth and streamlined. The touch was light at first, then it grew firmer until his feet were completely encircled by the creature and it was dragging him down once more. Ryan stood no chance of rescue and all thoughts of self-preservation left him as the coldness extended its frosty hold throughout his defenceless body. He could feel himself sinking, all sensation gradually leaving him.  
  
It was then that he would wake, the taste of blood still in his mouth. And it comforted him.  
  
END OF PART 8  
  
Sorry for the wait on this short chapter. And I promise I'm getting to the point! Ryan WILL leave hospital…eventually! Please, please review. Threats seem to have worked so far (below the belt as they are) so be careful I'm not forced to leave Ryan in his nightmare of bad hospital food & gowns instead of tank tops and crayfish! 


	9. Home

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE COHEN

By Allegra  
  
Author's note: A massive thank you to all my reviewers. You're the best! I really wouldn't be able to do this without you. I hope you like this next instalment.  
  
PART 9 : HOME  
  
Ryan had spent the better part of his afternoon sleeping. He wasn't really that tired but it was a useful avoidance tactic. Nobody bothered him and he was free from having to face up to the dismal reality of his new life, even if the old one hadn't sounded too great either. The doctors had given him some painkillers which Kirsten had quickly taken off him. She claimed he would lose the small bottle amidst the jumble of stuff Seth had installed in the pool house. In reality, Ryan suspected it had more to do with her monitoring his recovery and preventing any unnecessary pill-popping.  
  
He had watched the doctor talking to Sandy and Kirsten outside the hospital ward a few days earlier. All three pairs of eyes had turned to Ryan's bed at one time or another. Their voices were inaudible behind the glass partition but it didn't take a genius to figure out the subject of their conversation. The doctor had spoken to Ryan about taking care of himself once he was let out but he hadn't been convinced by the boy's attempts to allay fears that he wouldn't pull stitches or commit suicide. Ryan felt bad that the Cohens had to be caught up in his messed up life and all it's baggage but he was pretty helpless at the moment. The pills he was allowed at five hour intervals still kept him in a relatively woozy state and he possessed neither the strength nor the inclination to protest against the Cohens' concerns.  
  
For now he was grateful to have his own private space where no one could bother him too easily. Ryan glanced at the digital clock, surprised that so much time had elapsed since he closed his eyes. He shocked himself with how much time he spent fast asleep, despite the doctor's assurances that it was perfectly normal. His body was healing and it needed rest, or so he had been told. Ryan could only hope this convenient escape route stayed open for a while longer.  
  
Momentarily forgetting his injuries, he leaned on his elbows and pulled himself up into a sitting position. The exertion pulled on the stitches from where one battered kidney had been prepared, not to mention the quilt of colourful and very painful bruises and Ryan's breath caught sharply. Wincing, he moved more slowly, carefully balancing his body on the few areas that didn't hurt too badly.  
  
Maybe his amnesiac situation would be easier to cope with if it wasn't accompanied by so much physical pain. It was just too much to handle mending himself mentally and physically at the same time. Ryan only wished he could communicate all this to everyone around him but it all seemed too much deal with. Besides, it was almost like pouring his heart out to complete strangers and Ryan wasn't wont to do that at the best of times.  
  
A light rap on the glass door of the pool house brought his attention to Kirsten standing with a tray of food and drink. Seeing that he was about to struggle up to open the door, she quickly put the tray down and opened it herself. "No you don't! Stay put – doctor's orders." Ryan settled back gratefully. "I brought you something to eat. You're due for your next pill if you want it. Do you need one?" Kirsten looked him up and down, examining the teenager for signs of frailty. Ryan was pale and, aside from the cuts and bruises visible on his arms and neck, seemed relatively sound. She could only imagine how horrific his chest must look beneath the blue T-shirt.  
  
Ryan shook his head, ignoring the steady gaze. "Nah, it's not too bad."  
  
Kirsten didn't push further. She was glad that he didn't want more pain killers. It was a good sign that he wouldn't end up dependent. The poor kid had gone through enough without suffering another setback. "Okay, well, I don't know if you're hungry but I've got pancakes and maple syrup, some fruit and some of that yoghurt you like so much." Kirsten placed the tray gently on the bedside table and sat down beside the teenager.  
  
"Yoghurt?" Ryan eyed the pot beside him. "I like cherry flavour?"  
  
Kirsten stammered, briefly forgetting Ryan's fragile mental state. "Oh, yes. You said it was all they ever had at the 7/11 in Chino. I guess it must have reminded you of home."  
  
Ryan nodded, mutely. He considered what would happen if he were to take a spoonful right now. Would it transport him back to another time and place? Or perhaps it would unleash a torrent of memories that would affect one another in a domino effect and he'd become a whole person again. With a shudder, Ryan wondered whether every household object would be loaded with meaning. On one level it was a terrifying thought that, just as it had been brutally torn from him, his life could be returned in one alarming everyday activity. He could be 'Ryan Atwood' eating toast one minute and then Ryan Atwood the next, complete with surround sound memories and a life he got the feeling would be better forgotten.  
  
"Ryan? You okay?" Kirsten asked, noticing the distant look on the boy's face. She feared she'd said the wrong thing, only troubling him further when she had wanted to help.  
  
"Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine. It's just…weird," Ryan attempted a small smile, unable to articulate his muddled thoughts further.  
  
Kirsten helped him out, "You mean, that I know more about you than you do?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
Her hand reached out to touch his arm and Ryan winced involuntarily when her fingers pressed on a still raw bruise. Kirsten quickly pulled away. "I'm sorry. Listen, Ryan, it'll be okay. Everything will come back. You just need time and that's something we've got plenty of. Okay?"  
  
"Yeah." Ryan nodded, her words washing over him like water off a duck's back – never touching him. For a moment their eyes met and he felt a chill run through him once more, just as he had done in the hospital. Something unsettled him about Kirsten, but Ryan couldn't figure out where this dissention stemmed from. Did he have good reason to feel conflicted by her presence? She was looking after him and he knew she meant well but there was more to it than met the eye. She had the look of someone guilty.  
  
Kirsten felt uncomfortable under the teenager's opaque gaze, as if he were searching for her soul, delving deep under the surface. "Okay, well, is there anything else I can get for you?"  
  
Ryan drew away, realising how hard he had he been looking. "No, thanks. I think Sam got it pretty much covered."  
  
"Seth," Kirsten gently corrected.  
  
Ryan squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to force the information to stay in his head, as if he were afraid it would escape through the windows of his eyes. "Seth. God, I can't even get that right and he was my best friend."  
  
"Seth IS your best friend. He's not going anywhere, none of us are. Just don't force yourself before you're ready." Kirsten offered a short smile, not as friendly as it had been earlier, but Ryan knew he had unnerved her. Not knowing what else to say, he let her go.

* * *

"Do you want to come in?" Seth asked, dropping down from Marissa's jeep onto the tarmac outside his house.  
  
Marissa eyed the Cohen home for a moment, weighing up the potential awkwardness which might await her inside. "I don't know." She caught Seth's knowing expression and quickly added, "Okay, just for a minute. Just to say hi."  
  
Locking the car, the pair made their way to the front door, looking more like they were going to their deaths than home. "Hey mom!" Seth called, grateful to see his mother's blonde hair peaking up over the sofa. She would diffuse the situation for them all. "Where's Ryan?"  
  
Kirsten lifted her head from the newspaper she was perusing. "Hi, Marissa. Ryan's in the pool house."  
  
Seth nodded. "Is he up for visitors?"  
  
"I'm sure he'd like that. Don't wake him if he's asleep though."

* * *

The two teenagers approached the pool house with trepidation and found Ryan sitting on the foot of the bed, the Playstation console in his hand. Seth was relieved to see that his friend was looking marginally better than he had done a few days earlier.  
  
"Hey man! Ah, I see you're partaking of the good electronic fruits." Seth plonked himself down on the bed beside him, failing to notice the way Ryan winced with the bouncing of the mattress beneath his friend's weight. Seth watched the television screen avidly, "Go for a roundhouse and take that guy down!" Ryan failed miserably, his dexterity less than what it used to be. "Oh dude!" Seth exclaimed as fake blood filled the screen and Ryan's hero died a sticky death at the hands of the game's hoodlums.  
  
Ryan looked up, noticing Marissa for the first time. "Hi, Marissa," Ryan said, emphasising her name just a little as if he were proud to remember it. After momentarily forgetting Seth's name earlier, he was feeling a bit sensitive. The last thing he wanted to do was insult the people who seemed to be closest to him by failing to even remember what they were called.  
  
"Hi. How are you?" Marissa asked politely.  
  
"Good, I guess," Ryan replied, a small smile curling his lip. They all knew that wasn't the truth but now wasn't the time for pouring his heart out to anyone, especially not Marissa. "How was school?"  
  
Seth cut in, "Jeez, you sound like my dad! School's school and, believe me, you're better off not remembering it. But don't worry, you'll be back there soon enough." Not looking up at his friends, he restarted the level Ryan had been on, leaving Marissa and Ryan to make stilted conversation.  
  
Marissa kept trying to focus on Ryan's face but her eyes constantly wandered to the stitched cut slicing up across his temple and the purple bruise surrounding it. She couldn't help wondering if that was the culprit – why he couldn't remember anything. Blows to the head were notorious, especially near the sensitive temple area. "So…" she began, tailing off as she realised she had nothing to say.  
  
Ryan didn't know how to help her out. He wished he understood what their relationship had been. It was like being in limbo. He was half grateful that Marissa didn't launch herself at him in a flurry of kisses. He didn't want anyone touching him right now, let alone expecting affection back. Yet, against his will, Ryan was drawn to her, the power of attraction battling for supremacy over his broken, lonely spirit.  
  
"How does it feel to be out of hospital?" Marissa struggled for a common subject.  
  
"Pretty good. It's nice to be free of the needles and a companion every time I want to go to the bathroom. Not to mention the snoring guy two beds along." Ryan tried to joke, lighten the oppressive mood which was descending on them like a smog cloud.  
  
Marissa laughed, "Sounds bad. So, does it feel different? I mean, do you…remember anything yet?" She asked haltingly, afraid that it might be pushing Ryan too hard.  
  
Ryan felt a surge of irritation bubbling to the surface. Every time he saw anyone, that question came as certainly as night follows day. He just wished there wasn't so much pressure. It was as if the second his mind cleared long enough to let his brain heal itself, someone came along to force him back into a state of muddled guilt that he wasn't improving fast enough.  
  
He offered Marissa a curt shake of the head, biting back his growing annoyance. Marissa, seemingly oblivious to the minefield she was now walking on, continued, "It'll come. Maybe you need a knock on the head like in those cartoons to make it all come back."  
  
Ryan tried to tune out her incessant words and think about something else, but Marissa's eyes kept travelling to the stitches in his forehead and only made him more angry. Finally, he blurted out, "Stop it! Just stop, all right! Jesus, can't you just leave it alone? I don't know when I'll be better – maybe never. Maybe my life will never come back to me."  
  
Marissa blushed in embarrassment, fumbling for words to back track with. Seth had stopped his game was staring at Ryan in disbelief. He had never seen such an outburst of frustration. Marissa stammered, "I'm sorry, I didn't think…"  
  
"No, you didn't think at all! God, do you have any idea what this is like for me? I can't remember you or this house or anyone in it! Seth's my best friend and this morning I couldn't even remember his name!" He stopped suddenly, trying to regain control of his emotions before he hit something…or someone. "Just go! Both of you."  
  
Marissa backed towards the door, speechless. Seth looked taken aback but more crestfallen. Whether it was the fact that he had been kicked out or that Ryan hadn't remembered his name, Ryan wasn't sure. All he knew was that he needed to be alone. He waited until he heard the pool house door close behind them before pulling the blind down, purposefully blocking the world and all its arrogant sunshine out. Ryan just wanted to be left to his wretched, dark world.  
  
End of Part 9 

A/N See! He's out of hospital! I did it! Do you want him to stay out though? I've got a few ideas up my sleeve for putting him back there - or have you had enough of bedside manners?

Now click that little box down there on the left. Yeah, that's the one...


	10. Surfacing

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE COHEN By Allegra  
  
(See Part One for disclaimers etc.)

Author's Note : A massive thank you to everyone who has reviewed & encouraged me over the course of these 10 chapters. I can't thank you enough! Sorry for the long wait.

PART 10 : SURFACING  
  
It didn't take long for word of Ryan's outburst to reach Kirsten's ears. She was concerned for him but she also had vital work to do at the office - work she had neglected for too long already on account of the teenager's misfortunes. Kirsten was accustomed to coming to loggerheads with her father on numerous occasions but she usually had a reasonable leg to stand on in her defence. Pleading family issues - namely Ryan's - would not go down well and she didn't like the idea of listening to Caleb's berating. All those misplaced "I told you so's" about adopting strays off the street and Sandy's absurdly "apple pie" ideals concerning lifting criminals out of the gutter.  
  
Listening to Caleb's voice in her head though somehow turned Kirsten's guilt around. She could fight a pathetic argument like that. Instead, she now felt indignant and determined to do what was right. Ryan was unwell and unhappy, partly due to a selfish decision on her part. She couldn't, no, wouldn't leave him when he needed her most.  
  
Leaving a curt phone message on Caleb's answer phone, Kirsten braced herself and headed out to the pool house. She tapped lightly on the glass and peered into the main room beyond. She was surprised to see that Ryan wasn't in bed as she had expected - and as the doctor had ordered. This pushed her on and she opened the door, calling, "Ryan?" She instantly thought the worst.  
  
Ryan wasn't one to hang around to talk through his problems. His instincts were always to run and, in his condition, that would be the worst thing he could possibly do.  
  
"Ryan?" she called louder, trying to suppress the anxiety tinging her voice. Her heart lurched and then steadied in relief as the toilet flushed and the dishevelled teenager emerged from the bathroom. His eyes were bleary, still rimmed with red despite the obvious effort to cover up any evidence of tears. Kirsten knew better than to draw attention to it. "How are you fee...?" but her voice trailed off.  
  
She asked that question every time she saw Ryan but she already knew the answer. She knew that he was feeling 'fine' on the outside while insider he was hurting both physically and emotionally in ways that would take a long time to heal. "I took the morning off work. You want me to go the video store for you? I bet you've missed out on a ton of new releases." The cheeriness in her voice sounded false to her ears.  
  
Ryan didn't move from his position by the bathroom door. "Thanks but I think...Seth...left me enough."  
  
"Are you sure?" Kirsten pushed, struggling to think of another topic to prolong their conversation. She was desperately seeking a way into meaningful conversation.  
  
A shy smile crept across Ryan's battered face. "I guess I could watch the Star Wars films. I hear there's a great twist at the end."  
  
Even Kirsten knew that he and Seth had watched the trilogy together on one of the first nights Ryan had stayed over. She managed a smile but it was no laughing matter. "Listen, Ryan. I know this must be very hard for you - living amongst virtual strangers and not knowing when it'll all make sense again, but I'm here to support you all the way. We all are."  
  
Ryan nodded and he shifted from one foot to the other, wincing as pain lanced up his spine. The hitch in his breath was barely visible but Kirsten saw it. She instinctively moved towards him, ignoring his feeble protests. "Come on, let's you back to bed." She eased him down into a sitting position and rearranged the pillows so that Ryan would be comfortable. His knuckles whitened as they gripped the sheets, breathing through the pain until his body was positioned better.  
  
Kirsten sat back, regarding Ryan carefully. "Is there anything else I can get you?" She stressed the word 'anything', pleading with him to want something from her, what little she could give him in recompense.  
  
Once again, the wall came up around the teenager. "No...thanks."  
  
"Okay, well, I'm going to head to the store and grab a few supplies. If you want anything, you just call me on my cell. Okay?"  
  
Ryan nodded mutely again and Kirsten took advantage of his stillness to plant a light kiss on the top of his head before getting up. "I'll be back in an hour," she said a little too smugly. It wasn't every day one got that close to Ryan Atwood.

* * *

Summer regarded her best friend carefully. Marissa had been on another planet all morning, moping around and refusing to elaborate whenever anyone asked what was wrong. "What gives, Coop? You're driving me nuts."  
  
Marissa looked up from her text book with a forced smile. "What do you mean? We're studying."  
  
"Studying?! You're underlining EVERY word," Summer retorted. "It's that Chino guy, isn't it?"  
  
Marissa's eyes widened a little. "No, don't be stupid."  
  
Summer pulled a disbelieving face. "Hey, I've been seeing that expression since third grade. You ain't gonna fool me."  
  
Marissa actually appeared a little relieved that her friend had found her out. She had been afraid Summer wouldn't understand. "It's just so awful...what happened to him." She stared blankly at her page once more, recalling the first time she had visited Ryan at the hospital.  
  
Summer queried, "Is that all it is? Sympathy because he's gone through something so awful?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Marissa played innocent but Summer rolled her eyes, unconvinced. "Well, it's obvious that you and Luke aren't exactly love bunnies at the moment and you've been spending an awful lot of time at Cohen's house. So, unless you've developed a thing for Seth Cohen, I'm betting you're looking for a little bit of rough. Am I wrong?" Marissa pulled a shocked face but didn't dare deny it. Summer really did know her too well to be fooled.  
  
"It's weird. I don't know why I like him, I just feel kind of drawn to him. I don't know," she struggled. "It doesn't make any sense."  
  
Summer quickly replied with her psychoanalysis. "I think it makes a whole lot of sense - all girls like the bad boy, especially one from the wrong side of the tracks. Plus, Luke could do with a bit of jealousy to raise his game. There's no harm in a little manipulation, Coop. I say go for it if you don't take it too far." Marissa smiled at her friend's fabulous oversimplification of the issue. "Just be careful." Summer clasped her friend's hands with alacrity. "This Ryan guy's got a whole matching set of baggage. Be careful you don't get pulled in too deep. It's not worth the heartache."  
  
Marissa smiled gratefully, afraid that it was already too late to take her friend's advice. "I will," she muttered.

* * *

Ryan lay uncomfortably on his bed, flicking channels on the television but unable to settle on a programme for longer than a couple of minutes. His attention span seemed to have disintegrated not unlike his memories. Pain jabbed bitterly in his spine and he began to feel the all too common signs of nausea. He didn't care how much more pain it caused him, he had to get out. He considered the pros and cons of leaving a note for one of the Cohens but decided better of it. Something in him told Ryan he didn't want to leave a trace. It always complicated things or led to unwelcome surprises.  
  
Reaching for the phone, he stared at it blankly for a moment, realising he couldn't remember any taxi numbers. Biting back the urge to scream in frustration, he looked at the receiver and was relieved to see a list of the ten most urgent numbers - taxi ranking somewhere just below emergency services and the Cohens' doctor. He quickly punched it in and waited for the operator.  
  
Ryan suppressed a moan of pain when he moved too fast, giving the address of the house. He was pleased with himself for at least managing to remember that part. Strange that a new address came more easily to his mind than his supposedly best friend's name. "Where to?" the taxi operator asked. Ryan froze. He might remember where the Cohens' house was but providing a destination address was going to be a lot harder. "Uh, the beach," he said, vaguely.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, you're going to have to be more specific," came the sing-song voice in return.  
  
"Okay," Ryan murmured, wracking his brains for some detail, some café or hang-out Seth had mentioned. Then it came to him - the Crab Shack. That had to be near the beach with a name like that. It seemed to satisfy the operator who assured him a taxi would be with him shortly.  
  
Next job on the agenda was to check how much money he had. Ryan got the distinct feeling it wasn't going to be a lot. He winced, reaching for his bag beside the bed. Rummaging through the contents, he pulled out a battered wallet and examined the contents. He was pleasantly surprised to find at least twenty dollars. He figured that would cover the cost of the taxi.  
  
For a moment, Ryan couldn't help pondering how strange his mind truly was. It seemed ridiculous that he could remember how taxi services worked, know what the beach was going to look like but that he couldn't remember anything pertinent about himself or his life. He struggled to understand the logic - his whole world was one big topsy turvy mess.  
  
Ryan forced himself up off the bed, realising that it would probably take him about fifteen minutes just to make it to the front door. He hadn't been fully prepared for how excruciating it would really be to walk such a distance unaided. Every step was like a knife in his kidneys and by the time he reached the hallway, Ryan was drenched with sweat, his face pasty and white. Catching his reflection in the mirror, he stopped.  
  
He had almost forgotten what he looked like. It must be close to what an accident victim thinks when they see their own reconstructed face. You spend twenty years looking at your own face, only for it to become alien overnight. All the scars that marked your path suddenly erased. In Ryan's case, those scars were not erased; they were simply meaningless, redundant remnants from a life he hadn't lived.  
  
Pushing a shaky hand through his hair, trying to gather a little dignity, he went outside to wait for the taxi. He didn't have to wait long and then he was taking the extremely painful, bumpy ride towards the beach. Ryan didn't recall there being so many pot holes when he had travelled in the Cohens' car.

* * *

The Crab Shack looked pretty uninviting to Ryan. He knew he looked like crap and had already warded off numerous inquisitive stares, some horrified and some scornful. If there was one thing he couldn't stomach right now it was seafood and more furtive glances, trying to get a better look at his bruises.  
  
Limping pathetically towards the sand, Ryan found a secluded spot, as far from the throngs of people as he could find. He stood gazing at the ocean for a while, reluctant to move into a sitting position. His body ached all over, occasional jabs of pain highlighting the general throbbing throughout his waning frame. He did not know how long he had been standing there but it was only when his head started pounding and he feared passing out that Ryan forced his protesting body onto the sand.  
  
Hours passed, the beach goers packed up their things and headed back home, but Ryan remained where he was, unable or unwilling to get up. He was desperately tired and the prospect of hailing another taxi or interacting with anyone seemed near impossible right now. He was suddenly conscious of how few thoughts he could actually recall from sitting here all this time. It was as if his mind had completely blanked out. Like the ocean, small anxieties lapped at the edges of his brain but the waves were too far out to focus on; the tidal wave they could form was theoretical not tangible, dim and distant.  
  
He couldn't remember doing it or feeling the accompanying pain but Ryan found himself standing at the water's edge suddenly. His now bare toes felt the cold, salty water. As if by their own volition, his legs bore him further out, up to his knees, dampening his trousers. Soon the water was up to Ryan's waist. The salt smarted in some of the fresh wounds but somehow that was a comfort. It reminded him that there had been a beginning to all this - the cuts hurt almost as much as they had the day he first awoke in hospital. That day had become so distant, Ryan feared that with every passing moment he was losing touch with any part of him that might still remember who he was. Now, he felt closer than ever.  
  
He could feel every laceration - from the deep gouges where his skin had been pulled together by stitches to the superficial cuts scabbing over. This was the same body, the same person he had been weeks ago, when he had a memory and a life - no matter how pathetic it might have been. Moving further out, pressing on, Ryan closed his eyes as the water lapped around his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he ducked his head under, completely immersing himself. The bitter salty water was like amniotic fluid around him - a womb of care, healing him through pain.  
  
Ryan felt his breath running out and he opened his eyes to peer into the murky depths. Through the swirling sand and seaweed, he saw flashes of his life - his first bike, school, his brother...his mother. Like a bolt of lightning, there it was. The whole of his life reduced to a few seconds.  
  
Bursting to the surface, Ryan drew a ragged breath of clear air and bobbed for a few seconds in the choppy water. The sun was low in the sky, casting golden ripples on the ocean surface. Despite building fatigue and near crippling pain, he felt more alive than ever. Like pieces of some cosmic jigsaw puzzle, memories came flooding back, one triggering off the next until his time with the Cohens finally came into sharp focus.  
  
Dragging himself wearily towards beach, dazed and confused, Ryan allowed himself to sink to the ground and he closed his eyes once more. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  
  
How long he lay there, Ryan couldn't be sure, but the next thing he knew, a strong hand was on his shoulder, shaking him awake. "Hey, buddy. You okay?"  
  
Ryan gazed back, woozily. "I guess."  
  
"Man, you look like you need an ambulance. You stay right here..." he began, his eyes trailing over the cuts and bruises visible on the teenager's body.  
  
Ryan mumbled a refusal, "No, I've already been...I just need to get...get home or some place." He wasn't sure where home was right now. It wasn't the Cohens but he knew they'd be worried and he didn't want to complicate matters.  
  
"You got a number for someone who can pick you up?" Ryan thought for a moment and told him about Sandy Cohen. The man tracked Sandy down and went to fetch a blanket for Ryan.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, still staring out at the darkening ocean, wrapped in a blanket an holding a hot mug of tea, Ryan felt someone moving up behind him. Kirsten sat down beside him. He had half expected a lecture or a rant at the very least but she said nothing at first.  
  
Then, she began, "Ryan, I don't know how to..."  
  
"I remember everything," he cut in. There was no point in prolonging a futile discussion. He just needed his wounds to heal and everything would be back to normal.  
  
Kirsten didn't speak for a moment, just stared at him mutely, digesting this bomb shell news. Then, the guilt she had felt all this time about abandoning him came rushing to the fore. Now he would remember how she had let him down. "I'm sorry I left you there. If I'd known..."  
  
"It's okay, I understand." Ryan's face was controlled and betrayed no emotion, if indeed he felt any.  
  
"Things will be different now." And this time, from the bottom of her heart, she meant it.  
  
THE END  
  
Well, that's all folks. I hope you liked it. I could have gone all angsty again & had a big set-back with drug dependencies & stuff but I thought better of it. I think Ryan has been through enough! Thank you very much for reading & reviewing, it makes all the difference to know there's an audience following the story & makes you try that much harder to do something worthwhile. I hope it has been! 


End file.
